Replacement: Roads
by Dragon of Dispair
Summary: For Scorponok the road from Decepticon assassin to trusted Autobot isn't exactly a smooth one. Ficlets set in the same continuity as my oneshot "Replacement". Not posted in chronological order. Story is COMPLETE!
1. Choice

summary: replacement sequel. so why did scorponok decide to crawl into optimus prime's cab anyway?

disclaimer: i don't own transformers -- if i did, obviously scorponok would have had a bigger part in the movie. also, i'm not sure but i think i stole part of ironhide's characterization from one of casusfere's fics. apologies and thanks.

warnings: bits of transformer cussing -- ratchet and ironhide have potty mouthes.

Replacement:Roads--Choice

This song didn't have any humans singing. Curious about that, he roused his processors enough to access the Internet long enough to find the instrument and the song. A piano, playing "Oh, Holy Night", a Christmas song -- not that that mattered to him. Curiosity satisfied, he settled his processors again, but didn't fall back into full recharge. They were moving, but that didn't matter to him. He computed that as long as he stayed right where he was he was safe.

This was nice. Blackout had never let him listen to the humans' music. Of course his new master wouldn't be nearly as amused at playing hunting games with the humans as Blackout had been, but that was alright. He was safe -- that was what mattered.

Curled up in Optimus Prime's interior, Scorponok tried again to establish a connection between his command links and the truck's communication system. He'd been trying this for a while, but so far hadn't let refusal bother him overmuch -- he'd been recharging, allowing an automated system handle it. Again Prime shied away from the connection. This time Scorponok let out a metal-on-metal screech of frustration. Prime nearly stalled out in surprise.

Scorponok's peaceful mood was shattered. Sure the music was nice. And Prime's cabin was safe. But it would be so much better if his command links didn't hurt -- if Prime would be his master, and not just a safe haven.

He'd been a good pet to Blackout. He could be a good pet to Prime. Why wouldn't Prime just let him establish the link?

He let out another screech and felt Prime swerve off the road and stop. The other Autobot pulled up next to them.

"What's wrong, Prime? Besides the obvious."

"This Decepticon (Not a Decepticon, Scorponok thought, sulking) is shrieking like you just shot him. I am contacting Ratchet."

Don't need your medic, Master, Scorponok transmitted through the broken link, just need you to accept the link. No one heard him. For the first time he cursed his creator for not giving him a communication system other than the command links. Any of the Decepticons would have known that with Blackout dead, Scorponok would be looking for a new master and accepted gladly. But Prime wasn't a Decepticon. Maybe he didn't know what Scorponok wanted.

"Careful Captain Lennox. Scorponok is docile now, but there is no guarantee he will remain that way. And Blackout's last order was to kill you and your team -- he may still be bound to do so."

Blackout's dead, Scorponok thought, I can play nice with the human. He could prove it too. Quickly he scanned the Internet for something appropriate, missing the human's response in the process. The human -- Captain Lennox, Prime wasn't a Decepticon, Scorponok couldn't anger Prime by thinking of an ally as just "human" -- was looking at him through Prime's window.

Before he could try anything though, a siren announced the arrival of the Autobot medic. The human -- Captain Lennox left. Scorponok whirred several gears in his claw-cannons in frustration and sulked.

While Scorponok sulked, Ratchet had come to a stop and transformed. Prime's door popped open and the medic knelt to look in. Still sulking, Scorponok glared sullenly back. Ratchet's optics flickered as he reset them.

Then static hissed out of his vocalizer and he nearly fell over laughing. Prime's engine growled in annoyance. "Oh, Primus," the medic managed through the static of laughter, "that's funny."

"Hilarious." Any other mech would have shut up at that tone.

"How'd the little slagger manage to get in there?"

"Does it matter? Just help Ironhide get him out."

No, no, no. Prime might not have accepted the command link, but this was still the safest place for Scorponok to be. He was not going out where the Autobots would shoot him.

He backed away from the open door as much as he could -- not far, only a couple of inches; Scorponok barely fit in Prime's cab and there wasn't any extra space at all -- and brandished a claw-cannon.

Prime's other door was open and the other Autobot had Scorponok's tail before he could react. Scorponok screeched and scrambled to stay inside Prime, but it was no use. Prime began transforming the second the scorpion was clear. The Autobot -- Iron-something? -- activated the cannon in the arm not holding the scorpion's tail and pressed it against Scorponok.

"Gotcha, Decepticon scum."

Scorponok curled up as best he could and shook. He reached for Prime's communication system again and was rebuffed.

"Stand down, Ironhide."

"But Optimus --"

"No. Scorponok did not harm me, though he could not have found a better position to do so from, had that been his intention."

Did that mean he wasn't going to be shot? Scorponok uncurled and twisted so that he was looking at Prime and churred. Prime looked back and hopeful he tried connecting. The Autobot flinched and looked away. Scorponok screeched.

Prime addressed the medic. "Ratchet, I'd like for you to check Scorponok for damage and disable what weapons you can. Also, he has been trying to establish some sort of upload connection; see if you can't find out why."

"Of course, Optimus."

So Prime really didn't know about the command link. Maybe Autobots didn't have linked drones. That meant Prime would accept the link once the medic identified what it was. Thrilled by that thought, Scorponok shut off his exoskeletal force field so the medic could scan for damage -- there wasn't any and Ratchet reported as much -- then released the latches on his cannon armor so the firing mechanisms could be disabled. The three Autobots nearly goggled at how cooperative he was being. Ironhide growled. Scorponok ignored him.

"Well," Ratchet addressed the captive, still hanging by his tail from Ironhide's fist, "since you're being so cooperative, I don't suppose you'll --"

"Ratchet?"

"Shut the frag up and let me concentrate. I'm analyzing the signal."

Stupid Autobot medic, It's a simple signal. It shouldn't take that long. Scorponok twisted up to reach the hand holding his tail and bit. The hand dropped him.

"Little fragger," Ironhide cursed. Scorponok chittered insultingly at him and hid behind on of Prime's feet when the big mech brought his cannons to bear. Ironhide cursed again.

"Ironhide, are you damaged?"

"Fragger bit me."

"Are you damaged?"

"No." The big, black mech obeyed the implied 'then stand down'.

"Ratchet?"

"Slagging impatient is what you are. It looks like a drone initialization program. It's pretty complex, but I'd say he's trying to replace Blackout."

Hopeful that Prime would accept now that he knew, Scorponok tried again to establish a connection. He was denied again. He shrieked again, trying to convey that he was not amused by the repeated denials.

"How often has he been trying to connect?"

"Just step on him, Prime." Scorponok glared at Ironhide from behind one of Prime's feet.

"No, Ironhide. About three times every breem, Ratchet, since I stopped yelling at him for crawling into my cab."

"Which you'll have to tell us how he managed one of these days. But it seems like he's determined. He'll probably keep trying until you accept."

"Or until you squish him."

"No, Ironhide. Why me?"

"I can't tell you, Optimus. There's no parameters in the signal -- he could link with any transformer. There's no reason he couldn't have gone to Barricade."

Don't like Barricade. Scorponok scraped two plates of armor together to make a disgusted sound.

"Maybe he doesn't like Barricade." All optics turned to the human, standing far enough away not to be trampled is a mech moved. "That was certainly not a happy noise."

"Barricade would at least be another Decepticon."

Scorponok made the same scrape-buzz noise -- the human had understood that. It -- he wasn't as stupid as the Decepticons had implied. And Captain Lennox wasn't being as dense as the three Autobots were being.

Though it seemed the medic was catching on. "Care to guess again, Optimus?"

Prime looked aggrieved. "It doesn't matter. Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. I will not become a master of a slave -- not even over a Decepticon."

No. No. No! Prime wasn't supposed to refuse. He couldn't refuse. Scorponok needed him. He sent the link request again, more insistently, and was denied. Then again, and felt Prime simply shut off his receiver. Scorponok's screech was his loudest yet -- all three mechs flinched noticeably; the human covered his ears.

Anger spent, Scorponok collapsed across Prime's foot, mewl-clicking in pure despair.

"Poor guy. He almost looks like he's in pain."

Prime regarded the scorpion on his foot. "Ratchet, does the broken link cause him pain?"

"Likely. But he's functional and there isn't enough stress on his systems for any pain to be debilitating."

Slowly Lennox approached Scorponok. Trusting that Ironhide or Ratchet would protect him if the drone tried to kill him. Scorponok didn't move, just watched, but ceased the mewl-clicking. "Why Optimus?"

"Captain Lennox?"

"There's a reason he chose you, Optimus. Ratchet said he could link to any transformer. If all he needed was a link he wouldn't be so focused on you -- he'd be transmitting to all three of you. So why Optimus?"

Scorponok considered the question and the human -- Captain Lennox! -- for a long moment. Then whirred several gears in frustration. The answer was too complex to express in clicks and screeches.

He needed the link. His command links hurt and he could only communicate intelligibly to his master. But beyond that. When other Decepticons came, Scorponok would be denied the choice of his master. Before he'd always chosen his master, up through Blackout. But he'd always been aware that any Decepticon could forcibly fill the empty link. He knew he needed to choose a master before one was forced on him.

He'd chosen Prime because Prime could protect him -- from the Decepticons, from the other Autobots, from the humans who'd managed to hurt him badly before. Prime had let him listen to music. Prime would allow him as much freedom as the link was capable of allowing. Scorponok needed Prime for those morals that were causing him to reject the link.

And whatever his reasons -- beyond his reasons -- Prime was Scorponok's choice; the choice of who would be his master had been the only decision Scorponok had ever been allowed.

But he was unable to tell the human any of that -- though he would have if he could have. He would have said anything that might get Prime to accept the link. He couldn't, so he just whirred in gears in frustration.

Captain Lennox was giving Scorponok a peculiar look.

"Is it because he's big?"

"Captain Lennox?"

Scorponok didn't move, but inside he was thrilled. He could answer that question. He scraped his armor plates to make the scrape-buzz noise for a negative answer.

"Will you remain functional without the link?"

He let out an unhappy chirr. There was no use lying about it, but he rather thought that if he would die without it, Prime would have accepted the link.

"Is there a reason you can't wait for other Decepticons to come?"

Chirr.

"Does it have to do with the Decepticons coming?"

Chirr.

"Do you know which Decepticons are coming?"

Scrape-buzz.

"Does that reason have something to do with why you chose Optimus?"

Chirr.

"Captain Lennox, I see what you are trying to do, but I doubt Scorponok's motivations can be ascertained through a yes or no format."

"Probably not, But we can figure our some pieces. Like what would the Decepticons do if they found him like this?"

The three mechs looked at each other. It was obvious this line of thought hadn't occurred to them. Scorponok nearly vibrated with glee -- the human wasn't stupid at all.

Finally Ironhide answered the question. "Scorponok is an accomplished scout and assassin -- a weapon that cannot be turned against his master. There are few 'Cons that wouldn't desire that."

"And would they take 'no' for an answer?"

"No." Optimus nearly whispered sorrowfully, even as Scorponok made the scrape-buzz noise again.

Scorponok transmitted the link request again. Prime's receiver was on again, at least.

"No, Scorponok." This time a vocal denial accompanied the refusal. Prime shifted and the scorpion scrambled off his foot. Prime knelt so he could look at Scorponok optic to optic. "I'll protect you from the Decepticons, but I won't be your slave master."

It wasn't what Scorponok wanted, but he'd be protected. It'd work for now.

"Is that smart, Prime?"

"Perhaps not, Ironhide," the Autobot replied as he stood back up, "but it is what I am doing. Let's return to Tranquility."

All three Autobots transformed into their vehicle modes. Captain Lennox took the offered seat in Ironhide. Scorponok went to crawl back into Prime's interior. Prime shut his doors. Scorponok whirred. Ratchet laughed.

"No, you are too big for that to be comfortable for either of us. You will ride behind the cab. I will play the radio so that you can hear it, if you wish."

Chirring, he climbed up behind Prime's cab for the ride to...wherever Prime was going -- it didn't matter to him. The upbeat strains of another Christmas song floated over the roar of the engines of three Autobots.

fini

notes: when i wrote it i was intending to leave "replacement" as a oneshot. i was! then this thing went and wrote itself. and now there are more vicious little plot bunnies gnawing on my brain. i'm supposed to be studying for finals! sheesh...

sorry this isn't a funny cutefic. i'm hoping that some of the bunnies have something cracktasticly amusing and/or exceedingly cute, but for now the most insistent are all serious.

oh! and a breem is a transformer second and a bit longer than eight minutes. so when scorponok is making his link request three times in a breem, that's about once every 2 minutes and 40 seconds. For an analogy of how annoying he's being, imagine someone poking you three times a second. my mental optimus is disgustingly moralistic and patient.

and of course after all that, i still don't know how scorponok managed to climb in optimus's cab. grr... 


	2. Conversations 1 and 2

summary: replacement sequel. humans have opinions too

disclaimer: nothing's changed since yesterday. i still don't own transformers

warnings: human swearing in the second part -- epps has a potty mouth

Replacement: Roads, Conversation One -- John Keller and Optimus Prime

There were days John Keller could really come to hate that his job now included giant alien robots, he mused while going over the latest reports concerning the rogue Decepticons. Thank God the Autobots were pretty self-sufficient; very little of what they needed couldn't be dealt with by the local liaisons. Well, honestly, the Decepticons were self-sufficient too, but the two still on Earth were in hiding and all Keller needed to do about them was authorize the things being don to track them down.

And read the reports. They were having intermittent success with Barricade. Scorponok had not been seen at all.

His cellphone rang.

He rubbed his eyes as he pulled it out to answer it. This phone was only used for emergencies or by his wife -- though if you asked her, any time she called him it was an emergency. Right now he couldn't decide which he wanted to deal with less.

"Keller."

"Defense Secretary Keller. This is Optimus Prime."

Right then he decided he'd have preferred it if the call was from his wife.

"What can I do for you, Optimus Prime?"

"Scorponok has been located."

As far as he knew, all the Autobots were Stateside, so the only way they could have located Scorponok was, "He made it to the U.S.?"

"Yes."

"I can have the Air Force there to assist in less than an hour." Where ever they were.

"That would be unnecessary. We do not require assistance."

"Fine." there were so many ways 'do not require assistance' could be interpreted. And he wasn't sure he wanted to know just yet. He'd ask Prime eventually, but he wanted a moment first. "How did he get here?"

Prime hesitated. Obviously he'd been expecting a different question. It seemed giant alien robots could be taken by surprise too. "Scorponok is a resourceful planetary scout."

"I didn't think any of you could swim across oceans."

"And Scorponok cannot. But he could have stowed away on the outer hull of any ship traversing the oceans. Or traveled across the ice that connects the continents in the Arctic Circle."

"Wouldn't he have frozen if he'd gone across the ice cap? Megatron..." Keller trailed off. He wasn't sure he wanted to mention Prime's soldier that had been captured by Sector 7.

"There are ways of running our systems so they are not affected by the cold. Megatron was careless and Bumblebee was caught unaware. If that was his route, Scorponok would not have been either."

"Alright." He could accept that. And he'd be sure to pass that tidbit about cold not being guaranteed effective weapon to the anti-Decepticon units of the military. "Where is he now?"

"We are en route to Tranquility to meet with Bumblebee and Captain Lennox's team. Ratchet, Ironhide and Captain Lennox are also present."

"You captured him."

"Scorponok has surrendered and defected."

Keller was floored. He almost had to literally pick his jaw up off the floor. The initial description the Autobots had given of the metal scorpion had led him to believe he was incapable of either. "Excuse me."

"Scorponok came to us, allowed us to deactivated his weapons and voluntarily deactivated his force fields for a medical scan. Right now his only condition is that I, personally, protect him. He is sincere."

Something unidentifiable about Prime's tone made the hair on the back of Keller's neck stand up. He didn't dare ask how Prime knew Scorponok's sincerity. Or what Prime would do if Scorponok was attacked now. He hadn't retaliated when Sector 7 had captured Bumblebee, but he might now that an attack could be considered an knowing act of hostility rather than a mistake. "I'll call off the search for Scorponok."

"Thank you."

"Just...has he offered anything in return for your protection? Information?"

There was a long pause as Prime seemed to consider how to answer. Then finally, "Scorponok has offered more than I am willing to accept from him." Keller almost interrupted to ask what that meant, but didn't. He didn't think the Autobot would elaborate. "He is no longer an enemy -- that is enough. Undoubtedly he would give us any information we asked for, but is unable to communicate normally. Captain Lennox established a system by which which he could answer yes or no questions, but that format is unsuitable for relaying complex information."

"I see," he didn't really, but didn't think much clarification would be forthcoming. He made a note to send a list of questions for Captain Lennox and his team to include the answers to in their reports. "Keep me informed."

"Of course, Mister Secretary. Good day."

"Good day, Optimus Prime."

There were days John Keller could really hate that his job now included giant alien robots.

fini conversation one

Replacement:Roads, Conversation Two -- Robert Epps and William Lennox

"Holy Mother-Fucker! Tell me that thing isn't what I think it is!"

This, Will thought, is not going as well as I'd hoped. On the other hand, it wasn't going as badly as it could be: Epps hadn't pulled a gun. Yet.

To prevent any shooting, Will moved over to his friend to try and calm him down. Incidentally this also put him close enough to grab him if a gun did make an appearance. "Epps, you need to calm down."

"Calm down! That thing tried to kill us!"

"Yeah, I know. But he's not now and if he tries, Ironhide'll step on him. Believe me -- he's just looking for an excuse."

Looking over at the mech in question, Epps could believe it. Ironhide was glaring at the metal scorpion with such heat Scorponok should have been a puddle of melted metal.

"Okay. I'm calm." As though to prove it, Epps took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"You sure? Not going to shoot him?"

"I'm sure. Shooting's still an option. But first you are going to tell me what the fuck it's doing here."

Will grinned. "What? Once you've gotten past the trying to kill you part, Scorponok's a very nice bug."

"Fucker."

fini conversation two

notes: wow! "replacement: roads" has already gotten more response than any of my other stories. i am absolutely over the moon.

i decided the conversations were too short to be individual stories so they're together. conversation one with keller takes place directly after "choice" and epps's little freak out when they get to tranquility. keller's was kind of plotty, but epps is just because i needed to write someone freaking out over this. i would have preferred ironhide and will, but they aren't being forthcoming. ironhide in particular is being a lousy muse. which sucks because i have plans for him.

and after much thought, i've decided to leave the story status of "roads" as complete. each piece is complete, with no guarantee i'll ever add another piece. The only reason I indicated a plural was because i had bits of both these conversations written as of posting "choice" yesterday.

did you know it's kinda hard to type with a cat licking your hand? random i know...

FanfictionWriter83729 suggested that scorponok might have crawled into optimus while he was recharging. hmm...we'll see

and Blue Viper offered cookies. my bunnies usually can't be bribed, but i haven't had any cookies (or ice cream) in a month.

special thanks go to OblivionDragon for informing me that my evil plan was working.

now...must study for finals...hopefully i won't update until next friday at the earliest. 


	3. Perceptions

summary: replacement sequel. sigh... a boy and his dog. or rather, a warrior mech and his leader's pet decepticon.

disclaimer: lemme see... things i own: an antisocial laptop, some star wars action figures, a few (hundred) beanie babies, thirty coffee cups, a teapot, a cat... nope -- i still don't see transformers in that list anywhere.

warnings: cuteness. one very mild battle description. and transformer swearing throughout -- ironhide's in charge of the narrative and he has a potty mouth. (plus one human swearword in the notes at the end, 'cause apparently i have a potty mouth.)

Replacement: Roads -- Perceptions

When something big and pointy and putting scratches in his pristine black paint job climbed on him in truck form, programming written over millennia of war had Ironhide transforming, grabbing it, and pointing an activated cannon at it before he'd even rebooted out of recharge. When his processors finally registered just what he was holding, his reaction was to say:

"Oh. It's you."

For there, dangling from his tail held securely in Ironhide's fist, was Scorponok. Who clicked cheekily at him and swatted his cannon with one claw-cannon. Ironhide, who like the other Autobots who'd first landed on Earth had learned to understand "Scorpon-go" (as Sam had named Scorponok's use of clicks and gestures to communicate), knew that was the equivalent of "I know you're not allowed to shoot me. So nyah!"

For a moment, Ironhide was tempted to shoot him anyway. But Prime'd have his transformation cogs if he did. He deactivated the cannon.

In his hand, Scorponok twisted up in a very familiar way. Ironhide dropped the little slagger before he could bite him. Again. On the ground, the stupid bug let out a static-y noise that approximated laughter. Ironhide wanted to step on him, but that was another thing Prime had explicitly forbidden, so he settled for glaring at the bug scuttling around his feet.

"What do you want, bug?"

He nearly did step on him anyway when Scorponok gently grasped a plate of armor on his leg and tugged, before crawling off in one direction. Then he repeated the process when Ironhide didn't move.

"No. Go bother Bumblebee."

Scorponok just made the scrape-buzz noise that had been the first sound to be translated from Scorpon-go to English -- no. (Also "yuck" but that was a matter of context.)

Ironhide ignored him and transformed, intending to go back into recharge. Behind him Scorponok made a high pitched whining noise. Most Autobots interpreted that as a mild crying sound. Ironhide knew it was a threat -- that the little slagger would go crying to Optimus, and get him in trouble for being mean to his precious pet Decepticon.

"Fine. I'll follow you." Ironhide started his engine and followed the bug across the stretch of desert. He could hear static-laughter over the growl of his engine.

"Worse than a spoiled, rotten sparkling," he muttered grouchily.

Scorponok led him over next to one of the sentry posts for the base. The human was obviously a rookie because he visibly goggled at the giant metal scorpion and the huge Topkick that drove itself.

It was just a human military base, out in the middle of nowhere, but the surrounding desert was used by the Autobots to transform and recharge in peace. So every soldier that was transferred to one of the anti-Decepticon squads was rotated to this base to get used to the concept of giant alien robots before being sent into battle against one. And because every soldier that was going to become part of the anti-Decepticon forces was rotated through here, this was where most of the training in anti-Decepticon tactics took place -- which the Autobots occasionally participated in.

And here, a stone's throw away from this sentry post, was where Scorponok had dug his burrow. Or, as the humans had nicknamed it, his "toybox".

Really, Ironhide couldn't figure out what the bug's obsession with collecting things was all about, but Prime allowed it -- Prime spoiled the fragger -- and this was where he stashed it all. No one was sure how big the burrow was; none of the Autobots could fit in there and if a human had been brave enough to find out, he or she hadn't bragged.

The bug went into the burrow. Ironhide pulled up and transformed. A clatter and an "Eeep!" made Ironhide look over at the sentry. The human was staring at the big black robot with wide eyes and had nearly dropped his gun. He shifted air through his cooling system to make a sigh-like sound most of the Autobots had picked up during their time on Earth, and radioed the main control room of the base -- probably interrupting whatever monotonous system checks were being run at the time.

"Who's bright idea was it to put a first-timer out by the bug's toybox? 'Cause I think he's gonna need back up before he goes inta processor lock." He didn't wait for a response.

After fragging forever, Scorponok emerged, tail first, dragging whatever he wanted to show Ironhide. Whose first thought was 'where the fragging Pit does he find this scrap?' There, clasped by the 'fingers' of his two claw-cannons was a curved metal disk. A fragging yellow metal disk. With the words 'just say no to drugs' printed in black in English on it.

A fragging Pit-spawned transformer-sized yellow Frisbee.

"No. I'm not playing with you. Find someone else."

Scrape-buzz.

"No way in the Pit, bug."

Bug made the whining noise again. Ironhide growled his engine. He wondered if Prime might believe he accidentally stepped on Scorponok. Decided Prime fragging well would not, and strode over to pick up the...yellow...Frisbee. Fragging yellow! Bumblebee and that fragger Sunstreaker might see appeal in the color yellow, but Ironhide did not. He gave the thing a half-sparked toss.

It landed barely twenty feet away and Scorponok gave Ironhide a dirty look and a scrape-buzz. This time it definitely meant "yuck" -- an expression of disgust at the pathetic throw.

"Might I remind you -- you wanted me to play, not the other way around."

Scorponok just dropped the Frisbee at his feet and looked at him expectantly. He sighed and picked it up. This time it went a couple hundred feet. The bug gleefully burrowed through the loose ground after it, then sprung out of the ground, maybe fifteen feet in the air, to knock the Frisbee off its flightpath.

Ironhide winced. He remembered battles where Scorponok had used that exact sneak attack to take mechs the size of Bumblebee and Jazz by surprise, then used his tail to pierce vital energon lines -- occasionally even a mech's spark chamber. He shuddered at the memories. It was an underhanded Decepticon sneak attack. Few had survived long enough to make it to a medic.

Scorponok had been built a Decepticon.

He turned and walked away -- he didn't think he'd be able to watch the bug to that again without shooting him. The Decepticon dropped the Frisbee where he'd been standing and scrambled after him with a perplexed churr.

When he caught up with the black mech, he went around to scuttle backwards in front of him and let out a chirr-whine-click sound. Ironhide stopped and looked at the sad and perplexed former-Decepticon drone.

"Nothin', bug." He sat on the ground. Fragging Pit! What was wrong with him? Granted he and Scorponok generally maintained a mutually antagonistic relationship, and they annoyed the living slag out of each other, but Ironhide thought he had more control than that.

When Scorponok had first defected, Ironhide had maintained his suspicion. The bug was a Decepticon -- a Decepticon assassin, and with his supposed defection he'd gotten into a perfect position to murder the Autobots while they recharged. Even -- especially! -- Optimus Prime. It had sent every bit of Ironhide's paranoia programming running full tilt. But Optimus had been convinced.

And honestly, it was hard to argue. Scorponok had tried to give Prime his command link -- had been pretty insistent too. If Prime had accepted, Scorponok would have been his slave, literally unable to disobey him or betray him in any way.

Then Starscream had returned with several other Decepticons in tow. Ironhide and the other Autobots had answered a distress call from Optimus, who'd been caught alone. They'd arrived to find Optimus pinned down and injured and Scorponok valiantly trying to fend off Blitzwing and two seekers.

Scorponok crept closer with a series of worried clicks and Ironhide reached over to run his fingertips along the seams and gaps in his armor. The scorpion craved touch with and intensity that baffled all the Autobots. Touch just didn't mean all that much to most transformers. Ironhide usually wasn't one of those that indulged the bug, but now it served to let Scorponok know he wasn't mad at him. And served to remind Ironhide that this critter beneath his fingers wasn't the enemy he'd been for so long.

Usually, due to his size, he would have been designated the one to take on Blitzwing, but he was also the only one with the firepower to snipe the seekers. So he went to guard the injured Optimus and keep the seekers busy, while Bumblebee and Ratchet double teamed the triplechanger in his tank form.

Ironhide had really been to busy to pay much attention to the others, but he'd heard from the other two Autobots that Scorponok had injured Blitzwing badly, helping to drive the big 'changer off.

What he remembered most clearly about that battle was that at one point a seeker -- he wasn't sure which -- had maneuvered in for a low strafing run and he hadn't seen it until it was too late to get a firing solution on the approaching jet. He'd been sure he was going to get slagged. Badly. Then at the last moment before the seeker fired, Scorponok had leaped out of the ground to latch on to the seeker and jam his tail into the jet's fuselage.

The seeker had lived -- the leap had been too high, the catch too precarious, the strike too awkward and the seeker's armor too thick for the strike to be fatal, or even to cause a serious injury. But as the scorpion had dropped back to the ground, the seeker had pulled out of his attack. Soon after, the last of the three Decepticons had been driven off.

Ironhide hadn't really been able to think of Scorponok as a Decepticon since.

So he just sat there for a couple of breems, trailing his fingers over the bug's armor, listening to him chirr in one of his most contented tones. He ran the image of the scorpion latching onto that seeker in his processor until he was sure the past would remain in the slagging past.

Then he stood up and looked down at the bug, who made a questioning noise that was entirely unlike any other noise he made.

"You wanted to play Frisbee, bug, so let's play." With that he walked back to where the (slagging yellow) Frisbee had been dropped, picked it up and threw it.

This time when Scorponok burst from the sand to knock the toy out of the air, Ironhide didn't see an attack and an injured, dieing comrade. He saw only an ally, having fun.

Epilogue...

Lt. Caskill didn't think the wide-eyed sentry was really at all alert enough to be doing much good. There had been a few who had forgotten how their guns worked the first time they saw a transformer in person. Hence the reason all soldiers who were to be part of an anti-Decepticon unit spent time at this base to get used to the Autobots. It looked like this Sergent was one of those.

Though Caskill couldn't really find it in himself to berate the inattentive Sergent. Someone had really screwed up to put a complete noob out by Scorponok's burrow.

Usually Scorponok was a good introduction to giant alien robots for the soldiers -- in a controlled situation. He was smaller, looked pretty alien, and didn't randomly change from an otherwise innocuous vehicle into a thirty or forty foot tall robot. Bumblebee was better, but the yellow 'bot related to humans better than the others in general. Scorponok was also a good reminder that just because all the Decepticons on Earth right now were big and generally had the subtlety of an anti-tank missile was not a reason to get confident.

Caskill grinned, remembering one training exercise with the Autobots. One over confident squad captain had thought he'd had Optimus Prime and the medic Ratchet pinned. And he had, but, true to normal intel's inability to tell if a Decepticon has a drone with him or not, the training mission's briefing hadn't accounted for Scorponok being with Prime at the time. And the captain had forgotten to watch behind him. It had taken Scorponok about ten seconds to completely disrupt the captain's careful plan and about three minutes for the Autobots to win the simulation after that. After, he'd raised a stink about the drone not being included in the briefing and gotten a very impressive dressing down.

Then Caskill sobered. He also remembered the lecture Ironhide and Prime had given on why there was never any complete intel on Decepticon drones.

But it really was a mistake to put a newbie out by Scorponok's burrow. Because no matter how much of a kick-ass first contact he could be, or how invaluable he was as a training opponent, Scorponok was just plain weird.

Case in point: the scene that currently held the poor Sergent transfixed with wide eyes and without any idea he even had a gun, much less how to use it. Scorponok had somehow managed to coerce Ironhide into playing Frisbee with him. With a bright yellow Frisbee. Where had he managed to find a bright yellow, transformer-sized Frisbee, anyway?

Caskill kicked a rock to announce his approach and sidled up to the poor Sergent. "It could be worse."

He whirled around and snapped off a fair salute -- probably taking refuge in the military protocol. He looked like he would have saluted a dog if it would help him impose a sense of normal on the situation. "Sir!"

The Lieutenant returned the salute. "At ease soldier. It could be worse."

"Sir. How?"

He looked the Sergent strait in the eyes, trying to convey just how serious he was being. "Scorponok -- that one there -- likes Christmas music. Use your imagination."

Sergent...Mattox, according to his name tag, just blinked at Caskill for a very long moment. Then he collapsed into a fit of hysterical laughter it looked like he really, really needed. Lt. Caskill left him too it.

fini

notes: i got home from my last final yesterday and started kicking ironhide-muse. this is what he gave me. i'm not sure i like it -- the decepticreep hating psycho's being kind of mopey. this could also be considered a response to the random pairing generator prompt scorponok/ ironhide/ toy because that's what made me kick ironhide-muse as opposed to, say, bumblebee-muse.

this takes place several months -- possibly a year and a half -- after "replacement" and "choice". starscream is back on earth with blitzwing and several others. the seekers that were mentioned in the attack were not starscream, thundercracker or skywarp. i'm pretty sure they were two of the coneheads. also, at least one more autobot has made it to earth too, but i don't know which one or ones.

and, for those of you who are hoping scorponok and optimus end up linked, it has not, as of the time this takes place, happened. you'll know when (and if) it happens because a) it'll be really dramatic and b) these stories will get really depressive due to optimus having a p.h.d. in guilt. though the decepticons are for the moment laboring under the misconception that scorponok is linked to optimus.

now let us observe a moment of silence to honor the passing of my yellow notebook. it has served me well -- for upon it's pages is written the first drafts of "replacement", "voice of a god", "choice", "conversations", "perceptions", a four page chase scene for a fic i'll never finish, fifteen recipes, class notes, and doodles of anything and everything that's caught my fancy. sniff. I will miss you, yellow notebook.

in other news, i'd always wondered how digitally sent cookies worked. it's one of those things that gets said all the time in reviews and review responses. i'd always thought it was just an expression, like, i dunno, being hip deep in shit, i suppose. y'know -- not literal. but now i know better. i'm serious. in the notes for "conversations" i mentioned that Blue Viper had promised me cookies. after i posted i hung out on line for a while and saw that s/he had reviewed saying i get all the cookies i want. i grinned, but the review didn't magically generate cookies in my teeny tiny kitchen, so i moved on with my life. the next day, saturday, i decided to take a break from memorizing title,artist,date, of modernist and post-modernist artists and have lunch in the school commissary. and -- i kid you not -- they had cookies for the first time in like forever. lots and lots of cookies. i was over the moon with giggles.

so that was the highlight of my week. special thanks go to Blue Viper for the cookies. 


	4. Conversation 3

summary: replacement sequel. the secretary of defense gets a few things explained to him ... in a horribly cliche empty diner.

disclaimer: repetition doesn't make it any less true.

warnings: none. not even cuteness

Replacement: Roads, Conversation Three -- John Keller and William Lennox

For a moment Keller took the time to watch the big GMC Topkick that was the only other car parked in the diner's small lot. Other than the sense of sheer size that radiated from it, there was nothing unusual about it. It didn't move. It didn't give off the impression that it might move. It sat there, still and quiet.

Keller hadn't met this Autobot in person. He seen Optimus Prime after Mission City and the yellow one, Bumblebee, but hadn't had time to speak to Bumblebee under Hoover Dam. But he'd read the reports. This was Ironhide, the Autobot weapon specialist. He couldn't help feel that Ironhide's presence here was significant. Significant of what, he wasn't going to find out by staying here.

He got out of his car and walked past the Topkick to the diner. The truck ignored him. From a human he'd consider that rude, but he remembered one informal note that one of Lennox's team had added to one of his reports: "It's a cultural thing. If they're pretending to be a car the consider it polite to maintain the deception in public. Occasionally their ideas of 'public' and 'private' don't match ours. You could be totally alone and they'd consider it a public space. So if they're in their vehicle forms and ignoring you, they're only being polite, and the most polite thing for you to do is ignore them back."

So he took no offense at being ignored by what he knew was another person who was just as aware of him as he was of him.

Sometimes he wished, Keller mused as he walked into the mostly empty diner, that he could have an anthropologist do an in depth cultural study of the Autobots. Earth becoming ground zero for an alien war -- that certainly wouldn't confine itself to the United States -- was going to be tricky enough without alienating (no pun intended) their allies. But he wasn't sure how the Autobots might view an anthropologist. As far as he could tell, the closest profession to anthropology they had was that of a spy, and Keller really didn't want to commit an offense on that scale if that was the case. For now his standing order for the Autobots' local liaisons to include any cultural information they picked up in the their their reports would have to suffice.

And thinking of reports -- their latest series of reports had been vague on certain points concerning this situation with Scorponok. They had done a very good job of implying that the didn't know anything further than what they'd said. Keller might have accepted that if it hadn't been for Captain Lennox's request for a private, unofficial meeting attached to the end of his.

Which was why Keller was sliding into a booth across from the captain in an otherwise empty diner.

Without being asked, the waitress brought a cup of coffee. As she retreated, the song on the anchient jukebox switched from the end of "Jingle Bell Rock" to the beginning of "Away in a Manger". Lennox looked over at it, bemused.

"So what was it you wanted to tell me, Captain?"

Lennox looked back to Keller. "Sir. There are somethings about the situation with Scorponok we all believe you need to be made aware of, but for various reasons do not want to be made official."

Keller remembered how vague Optimus Prime had been when telling him about Scorponok's defection. After the fact, he thought the vague had the feel of things left out for personal reasons, not a desire to be less than honest. "You're not...violating anyone's trust by telling me this, are you?"

Lennox grinned a bit. "No Sir. Optimus is one of the most adamant that you be informed, despite how sensitive he considers most of it."

So the truck outside wasn't here to prevent Captain Lennox from giving away secrets then. That was good. "Go on. We'll start with why Scorponok can't talk for himself." If Optimus's reluctance had stemmed from personal discomfort, that was probably the least sensitive.

"Well apparently that has to do with the nature of Decepticon drones -- which they didn't tell us because, as enemies, the differences between the types drones is negligible."

"You're quoting them, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he grinned, "I can't really explain it better than than Ratchet and Optimus did."

"Go on."

The captain's expression sobered. "The Autobots aren't sure how complete this information is. Drones didn't make an appearance until their war was well under way and both sides realized that smaller units would be better for infiltration and information gathering. The Autobots built smaller mechs like Bumblebee; the Decepticons built drones. As far as they know there are three types of drones -- a non-sentient kind that are used for simple tasks that don't need any sort of improvisation, and two sentient kinds. The closest translation for one kind of sentient drone is 'cassetticon'. Cassetticons are irrevocably linked to their masters, and their masters to them. But the use of cassetticons has fallen out of favor since their first appearance, because in the Decepticon view the drones have to be expendable and the depth of their bond with their master makes them anything but." He grinned again, briefly and a bit viciously. "A cassetticon was only expendable if it didn't belong to you." All amusement faded from his face. "There's only one active cassetticon team they're aware of. Frenzy was part of that team. His master and 'brothers' will be among the Decepticons coming here."

"But Scorponok's not a cassetticon."

"No Sir. One of the disadvantages of cassetticon units was that if the host 'Con was killed, the entire unit died. So the Decepticons built a new type of linked drone, one that's death wouldn't backlash on the host and the death of the host wouldn't automatically mean the death of the drone. They came up with two variations of linked drones, which are interchangeable as far as the Autobots have always been concerned. The difference is that one would eventually die without being bonded to a master and the other would not. Scorponok is one of the latter, but to encourage dependence he was constructed to be unable to communicate except through his link with his master."

"My God." Keller was appalled. It sounded fine, logical. Until he remembered that Lennox was describing people, not just machines. Then it was horrifying. The tightness around Lennox's eyes and the formality of his choice of words -- beyond that he was almost quoting the Autobots in some parts -- told him he felt the same. "The Autobots don't...construct drones, do they?"

"No, well yes...but that's a linguistic problem."

"Excuse me?"

"The Autobots do construct what we would call drones, but Ratchet says that they wouldn't be referred by as the same word as drones like Scorponok and Frenzy. They don't put sparks in theirs."

"Sparks?"

"Souls, Sir, and the programming for sentience." Lennox looked pained. Keller imagined he looked the same. It was one thing to say the words 'alien war' and quite another to think of all the horrors that might entail. Some of which, he was beginning to realize, not only didn't have human equivalents, but might not even translate adequately into a human language.

"So Scorponok defected to escape slavery under the Decepticons." That made sense. And he could partially understand Optimus Prime's reluctance to describe the specifics of the Decepticons' evil.

"Not...exactly, Sir." Lennox wouldn't look at him. "Scorponok, I don't think, really has a concept of the sides in the war. The Autobots were his master's enemies, not his own. As far as his actions went, they amounted to the same thing -- as long as his master was a Decepticon. So when Blackout was killed, he didn't so much defect as just do what he'd always done -- choose a new master."

"And he chose an Autobot. Which one?"

"Optimus."

Keller choked. "You're serious?"

Lennox nodded. "Optimus didn't accept. Scorponok's still a free drone, but he seems determined to hang around and act the part of Optimus's drone until he changes his mind about accepting."

Both men sat in silence and pondered that while the waitress came over and refilled both their coffees. Keller knew he'd need time to work out what everything meant. He was also thinking that there were things about this he'd probably never be able to wrap his brain around.

"So why doesn't Optimus Prime want this official?"

"Sir. Other than more personal reasons which Optimus won't talk about and Ratchet compares to family troubles, if the Decepticons found out Scorponok was not technically bonded to a master, they'd attempt to forcibly link to him. He's made it clear despite being unable to talk that there are few thing's he'd like less. So to protect him, they want Scorponok's status to be logged as 'drone attached to Optimus Prime' and nothing else to be said."

"I think we can do that. So how exactly did Scorponok approach the Autobots in the first place."

The captain laughed a bit and was still smirking when he answered. "He somehow managed to climb into the cab of Optimus's truck form and refused to come out. We don't know how he managed it -- Optimus refuses to tell, so apparently it's embarrassing."

Keller tried to imagine it. It must have made a funny picture, because Captain Lennox still looked as though he was trying not to laugh. Still he couldn't really picture it.

"And why exactly id Ironhide parked out front?"

"Optimus ordered him to go away and come back when he thought he could control his temper. I had to come here to report, so we decided to make a road trip of it." He didn't look any less amused.

So the big, black Autobot weapon specialist whose presence had worried Keller so much was here because he was on time out. He shook his head. This was starting to get surreal. Or rather, more surreal. "Was that everything, Captain?"

"Yes Sir. Unless you had any more specific questions."

"No, I don't think so." For a moment he thought about the request he really wanted to make, before deciding just asking probably wouldn't be too much of an offense. "Could you find out how the Autobots would take having an anthropologist assigned to them?"

"Sure I could, Sir."

"Thank you. Good night, Captain Lennox."

"Good night, Sir."

Keller left. He had some paperwork, and a lot of thinking, to do.

fini

notes: i have a confession to make. parts of this were written before "perceptions". the conversation between keller and optimus got me thinking about a lot of things -- assumptions, the nature of scorponok's command link, which transformers characters i might eventually involve in this, how the war might be fought on earth, the culture of transformers in general, and that of the autobots' vs the decepticons' in specific. i wrote things down, one and two sentences at a time as they occurred to me, and on thurs night when i put everything together (and threw out some parts that contradicted each other), i found i practically had a dissertation.

then i re-read "conversations i" in a routine check for minor errors yesterday and decided keller needed some things explained to him before he went and acted human and screwed up. i elected lennox as the one who got to explain it to him. you can blame him for the diner setting -- he wouldn't cooperate otherwise.

on the plus side, i now know which decepticons are coming to earth. and in response several autobots have volunteered.


	5. Steps

summary: replacement prequel. pre-earth. scorponok makes a decision.

disclaimer: i caught a moth the other day. my cat liked it, but it doesn't mean i own transformers.

warnings: none really. lots'a decepticons and the implications that they are mean, but they aren't actually doing much now.

note: this takes place two or three thousand years pre-movie

Replacement: Roads -- Steps

He knew -- exactly -- when it happened.

It hurt. But after the initial ripping-tearing-shock, it was a phantom pain -- no longer putting stress on his systems. A phantom pain... and unlike a physical one, he couldn't just turn off the relevant damage sensors until repairs were completed.

He didn't tell anyone. Couldn't in fact, but wouldn't have even if he could. As long as no one knew, he had time -- time he needed.

He'd known this would be coming -- Kickback had been reckless, but he'd been the best choice at the time. He wasn't ever going to choose someone reckless ever again if he could help it. He was an assassin, not a front liner and recklessness like Kickback's had grated against that programming, overridden only by the command link. Vindictively, he hoped that Kickback's teammates had died with the Decepticon on their mission.

No. This time he had the time. This time he had options. He may have appreciated Kickback's humor, but it wasn't worth his impulsiveness in battle. Or his temper out of it.

He still wanted a flier though. Not a seeker. Seekers were uniformly flashy, arrogant, and easily provoked. He only take a seeker if it was the absolute last mech in the the universe. Preferably not even then. No, he wanted a cyclo-craft or a space shuttle. Maybe a triple changer, but there weren't many of those and the only one with this fleet was only a bit more suitable than a seeker.

(Wistfully he though of a particular Autobot spy and assassin he'd observed infiltrating a Decepticon base once. That one had been almost perfect -- quiet, cautious, ruthless. Enough of a vicious sense of humor to set up a prank on his way out and confident enough to sign his designation to it. That would have been worth being bound to a ground-bound minibot.)

Discretely, he went through the fleet's service records looking for a shuttle or a cyclo-craft that was suitable. There weren't many results. Recklessness -- bordering on insanity, in Cyclonus's case -- seemed to be hard-wired into most cyclo-craft. Space shuttles were better in general -- having the calm and patience to endure lone space missions, but they didn't seem to have any sense of humor either.

After Kickback though, he would have gladly traded calm and patience for humor -- but most of the fleet's shuttle-'formers were on long range reconnaissance or patrols and wouldn't return until well after the news of Kickback's death had disseminated and he was well out of time.

The consequences of running out of time made waiting for those not even worth considering.

Finally the ship's computer yielded up the names of three suitable mechs: Vortex, Blackout, Blast Off.

Vortex's records indicated he was a melee fighter and interrogator. Probably his team's unofficial medic, not that that mattered. But being an interrogator meant he was probably intelligent, which did matter.

Blast Off was a long range scout and a sniper. His team's communication's officer, too. The same team as Vortex, which was why he wasn't on a reconnaissance mission -- the Combaticon team was more valuable all together than any information Blast Off could have gathered away from the fleet.

And all the Combaticons were stationed on the same ship as he was, making them easy to observe.

He very quickly decided he'd prefer Cyclonus -- maybe even a seeker -- to Vortex. The Combaticon cyclo-craft was cruel. This was to be expected in regards to prisoners -- Autobot and otherwise -- he was an interrogator after all. Expected to some degree in Decepticons in general. But Vortex was a torturer and didn't seem to care who or what was under his laser-scalpel. He didn't want to spend his existence hiding from a sadistic quasi-medic.

Blast Off was better. Infinitely better -- he was everything his record implied. But he was a Combaticon -- which meant being in close proximity to Vortex. More is also meant the team would rise and fall in the Decepticon ranks as a unit, always with Onslaught as the leader. He hadn't realized it when he'd pulled the computer records, but serving Blast Off (or Vortex, but that wasn't an option anymore) would be the same as serving Onslaught, except he still wanted a flier and Onslaught wasn't that.

Blast Off was still an option, but not unless Blackout was a worse choice than Cyclonus. In fact if Blackout was worse than Cyclonus, he'd probably go to Cyclonus. He knew Cyclonus -- that particular cyclo-craft was insanely reckless and not very intelligent, but he wasn't abusive and couldn't be worse than Kickback. And he'd rather have Kickback back than be attached to the Combaticons.

Blackout was on a different ship though. Sneaking from one to the other took a bit of time -- time he was very quickly running out of. Bombshell and Shrapnel, he decided, must have died on their mission with Kickback. Otherwise they would have gotten word to the fleet of Kickback's death by now.

Moving around on this ship was harder too. On the other ship, he was a fixture. He'd belonged there. On this ship, if he was seen, all but the most stupid Decepticons would figure out why he was there. Then it wouldn't matter that the fleet hadn't gotten word of Kickback's death yet. So he stuck to the shadows and the crawlspaces. There were other drones in the crawlspaces and they knew why he was there, but the drones all had an understanding about this. They wouldn't mention him, not unless their masters asked directly. Which they wouldn't, not unless he was seen by the Decepticons first.

He found Blackout in the ship's cantina. Immediately he decided the cyclo-craft 'former wasn't unpleasant to look at. The big black mech matched his own aesthetic preference -- his rotors sweeping behind him like the wings of some organic arthropods. Not that aesthetics were a good basis for a decision, but that plus his service record put him above Cyclonus -- assuming there wasn't some personality flaw that detracted from his suitability.

Just as he's settled in to wait and watch, a Decepticon with some sort of heavy hauler alt form stormed into the cantina. The newcomer was furious and easily one of the bigger Decepticons in the room. Taunts and catcalls rang out from the other mechs in the room, which were ignored by their fuming target as he headed toward Blackout like a homing missile.

"What's wrong 'Haul? Didn't like my gift?"

"'Haul's" answer was to plow into Blackout, sending them both into the nearest table, spilling several cubes of high grade. Blackout managed some sort of twist-throw that sent the truck 'former flying despite being heavier than his opponent. Both combatants got to their feet and deployed weapons -- Blackout's was a mace that looked like it was formed from a secondary set of rotors for his alt-form. And the fight was on.

He shamelessly eavesdropped on the other mechs in the room and was pleased to note that most of the betting was in Blackout's favor. He was even more pleased when a Decepticon was able to recount the prank Blackout had apparently played on the heavy hauler.

Blackout, he decided, was almost perfect. Time to find out where he recharged.

fini

notes: i hated writing this -- i don't think the word "cylco" was even once spelled correctly in my first draft. i also really hate the title. i re-read a few of the previous "roads" and decided i used the word "scorponok" too often sometimes, so i wanted to see if i could write one without using his name once. if it's too confusing, let me know and i'll change it.

i wasn't going to write any prequels. but i was working out a (very) rough timeline for the "replacement"-verse and thought it might be good to show the difference between scorponok choosing optimus and him choosing blackout. i still wasn't going to write it this soon, but all my autobot muses decided to go to tahiti for the week.

so on a couple of more random notes -- the cyclonus mentioned is armada cyclonus not g1. i'm not sure how he snuck in there, but he stays. besides, in my mind, g1 cyclonus needs unicron and galvatron and since i'm not letting those two invade my stories...no g1 cyclonus. and yes, that was a cameo by long haul toward the end.

digital brownies to the first one to name the autobot scorponok was thinking of. and am i the only one who thinks blackout's rotors look like fly wings when he's in primary form? 


	6. Timeline

"replacement" and "replacement: roads" timeline so far. this will be updated as i add fics to "roads", so if you're confused about where a story fits, look here. all times are give of take several days or weeks (or months or years or centuries in the case of the larger timeframes).

--eleven thousand yrs pre-movie

"divergence"

--ten thousand yrs pre-movie

"currents"

--two thousand yrs pre-movie

"steps"

"steps, redux"

--about forty yrs pre movie

--"ghosts of yesterday" movie prequel novel

--movie (early june 2007)

--six months post movie (late november 2007)

"replacement"

"choice"

"conversation one"

"conversation two"

--six months, three wks post movie (mid december 2007)

"conversation three"

--seven months post movie (late january 2008)

"conversation 8"

"introductions"

"settling in" start

--eight months post movie (feb 2008)

"anthropologist's report 1"

"settling in" end

"conversation 5"

"secrets"

--nine months post movie (march 2008)

"anthropologist's report 2"

"plushie"

--ten months post movie (april 2008)

"directions"

"complications"

"anthropologist's report 3"

--eleven months post movie (may 2008)

"conversation 6"

"conversation 9"

--twelve months post movie (june 2008)

starscream returns to earth w/ blitzwing, dirge, thrust, and ramjet (and laserbeak is with blitzwing). blitzwing and laserbeak crash in russia, and announce the return of the decepticons by attack russian military bases and cities.

--twelve months, one wk post movie (still june)

"turning point" parts 1 and 2

--fourteen months post movie (august 2008)

"arrivals"

"conversation four"

"anthropologist's report 5"

"conversation 7"

"circles" begins

--fifteen months post movie (sep 2008)

"kodak moment"

"dominos"

--seventeen months post movie (nov 2008)

"circles" ends

"anthropologist's report 4"

--twenty-four months post movie (june 2009)

"perceptions"

"anthropologist's report 6"

--twenty-seven months post movie (september 2009)

"chimera"

"hide and seek"

"tag"

--twenty-eight months post movie (october 2009)

"strength"

"aftermath"

"conversation 10"

--thirty months post movie (december 2009)

"horizons"

"untitled" -- mirage character study

--forty-two months post movie (december 2010)

"epilogue"


	7. Arrivals

summary: replacement-verse. a couple of new autobots make it to earth.

disclaimer: me? own transformers? i'll be right back ... just as soon as i finish laughing my ass off

warnings: human and transformer swearing

note: snif... no scorponok in this one -- it was entirely inspired by research

Replacement: Roads -- Arrivals

While he certainly wasn't happy about the long awaited arrival of the Decepticons, Defense Secretary Keller couldn't deny that their actual presence was doing wonders for world relations. He signed his permission for units of the Canadian military to attend training with the Autobots on US soil and picked up the next piece of Autobot/Decepticon related paperwork. This one was a preliminary request from the Chinese for information, effective tactics and possible training against the Decepticons.

China and Russia especially had refocused their priorities since the Decepticons had come. Russia had been the location of the first Decepticon attack after they'd landed -- several bases of theirs had been obliterated by a tank-jet thing (Blitzwing, according to the Autobots). And China was apparently a favored target for three brightly-colored F-22s no one could mistake as American.

Keller regarded the proposal. Information and effective tactics weren't any sort of problem. The president himself had made it clear that all a foreign government needed to do was ask for them. But training... that meant training with the Autobots. Optimus Prime would insist and as the leader of what was effectively an autonomous government, the US had no real power to tell him they couldn't help the Chinese -- especially against the Decepticons. But that would mean either getting the Autobots to China or allowing Chinese soldiers into the US...

His phone rang and he happily abandoned his contemplations of US-Chinese relations to answer, "Defense Secretary Keller."

"This is Optimus Prime." It was no longer surprising when the Autobot leader bypassed the layers of secretaries that were supposed to be between him and outside calls.

"What can I do for you, Prime?"

"We've picked up the signals of two Autobots approaching Earth. One of them is damaged and cannot alter his trajectory. I would like your military to be present in case they require assistance."

"Where?"

Prime listed the coordinates and automatically Keller typed them in to see what was nearby. Instantly he saw why Prime had asked for help. "That's in the middle of the Pacific Ocean." And few transformers -- Autobot or Decepticon -- could swim.

"Yes," was Prime's response. He added something in Cybertronian and continued, "says he can keep his comrade from crashing into the ocean, but he cannot carry" another burst of Cybertronian "for very long."

From the context, Keller reasoned that the alien words were the names of the two approaching Autobots. One of the footnotes in one of Dr. Jackson's reports had said that the Autobots chose the English equivalents of their own names and the Autobots already here wouldn't refer to them in English until they did.

Prime was silent as Keller entered searches into his desk computer and scrolled through results. "The _USS_ _Hornet_ should have just finished refueling at Pearl Harbor. I can override their orders and have them at those coordinates in about a day. Will that be soon enough?"

"It should. It will have to be. I will contact" Cybertronian static. "He and his comrade are fliers and may try and meet your ship along the way."

"I'll be sure they know."

"Thank you."

"Of course Prime."

Fliers, huh? Keller drafted the _Hornet_'s new orders, tacked on his personal authorization and sent them. When he was done he idly pull up the list of aircraft assigned to that particular carrier. Mostly it looked like F/A-18s and some F-22s. There were a few Ospreys for rescue and -- that was interesting...

Fliers would certainly make this request from China easier to deal with. He tacked a suggestion onto the paperwork and filed the relevant portions to be forwarded to Prime.

888

Their new orders had been very irregular but had come directly from the Secretary of Defense so they weren't to be questioned. SecDef had also said "immediately" so the _Hornet_'s commanders had done their very best to be en route "yesterday". The orders had been pretty simple -- self explanatory even: get to these coordinates, now. Be prepared to assist two incoming Giant Alien Robots, up to and including having 'copters ready to pull them out of the drink. Also be prepared to launch jets to defend against enemy Giant Alien Robots who might be looking to pick off the two newcomers.

Oh, and by the way, Lieutenant Commander Rossio thought to himself somewhat sarcastically, the entire crew has now been cleared to know about the Giant Alien Robots -- make sure no one panics.

Not that he saw anyone panicking -- openly. But there were a lot of wide eyes and shaky hands. His own among them. The thought gave him the willies. Too bad he was on duty -- he could use a drink.

Petty Officer Rose's still wasn't exactly legal but no one had done anything about it yet.

But they were expecting action within a day, so Rose's homemade jet fuel was officially -- official as applied to something that didn't exist -- off limits.

By the second turnover though it looked like most of the Oh-My-God-are-you-serious?-Aliens! inspired jitters had been brought under control. Some joker had even dug out a copy of "Independence Day" to play in one of the rec rooms. Rossio had peeked in briefly, but left before he was seen. He wasn't in the mood.

Instead he made his way to the aircraft hanger. The place was crawling with technicians making sure the various aircraft were ready to deploy. Especially the HV-22B Ospreys, since orders had very specifically specified that if the aliens landed in the water, they were to be fished out sooner than ASAP. But the jets weren't being neglected -- if these "Decepticons" showed up to pick off the friendlies, they'd need the jets in the air. He moved out of the techies' way and out onto the observation deck in the back.

It was kinda a nice night. The phosphorescence of various plankton disturbed by the carrier's wake was always fascinating to look at. As was the reflection of the _Hornet_'s lights off the water. Too bad those same lights made it difficult to see the stars -- this far out to sea the would otherwise be spectacular. the lights washed out all but the brightest.

It wasn't until he saw the second shooting star, exactly mirroring the course of the first, that he realized what spotting the meteors meant.

"Shit!" He lunged for the intercom and dialed the bridge. "I've spotted a pair of meteors -- think our guests are dropping in early."

The intercom had barely switched off before the scramble alarm blared across the carrier. Rossio was already running for his post in the air control tower.

"Holy mother-fucking shit!" He'd just gotten to the flight deck when the first meteor hit the water. It felt like a couple dozen torpedoes exploding off the port side. And being on the deck meant he had a good view of the alien when it pulled itself out of the water, hovering for a moment.

"Son of a bitch." That thing was huge. Brass certainly wasn't kidding when they called those things Giant. The first Ospreys taking off jolted Rossio out of his daze and he continued his dash to his post.

The control tower had an even better view. The second "meteor" was coming down closer to the _Hornet_ than the first had. Lt. Rossio could see that it definitely wasn't made of rock even before it unfolded into a vaguely humanoid shape like its companion. Its decent slowed as it apparently tried to hover, but it was still going to hit the water.

By now the airspace around the _Hornet_ was thick with craft -- Ospreys hovering as close to the aliens as their pilots dared, Super Hornets and Raptors circling, on the lookout for hostiles. Hell, even the new Lightning IIs had launched. And Rossio was busy making sure none of them crashed into each other. But not so busy he didn't see the first alien dart from the side, sending the Ospreys scattering, to catch the second. Both hit the water, then came up again, one identical silver form carrying the other.

For long minutes the two aliens just hovered and stared at the surrounding aircraft. Then: "This is Autobot designates Fireflight and Air Raid in search of our leader Optimus Prime." The voice that crackled over every communication channel way young, male, and spoke English.

2IC's voice answered. "This is the _USS_ _Hornet_ and we're to give you a ride to the mainland."

"Good. 'Cause I wasn't looking forward to dragging 'Flight's aft all that way." This voice was a bit deeper and brash where the other had been a bit cautious.

"Air Raid, be polite."

Lt. Rossio noticed that now that the aliens were here and talking, the wide eyes and shaking hands had reappeared around the control room. Including his own.

"Welcome to Earth."

"Whatever."

888

The alien's -- Air Raid's -- attitude didn't really improve as the _Hornet_'s crew and pilots got them settled on the fight deck and got all the aircraft recalled and stowed, but eventually his comrade -- Fireflight -- got him to stop making his comments on an open channel. And for the first day or so, they mostly kept themselves out of way with Air Raid tinkering with something in Fireflight's leg. Though the bickering was hard to miss.

"Slaggitall 'Flight. The clutter in this system is dangerous enough without you chasing comets just 'cause they sparkle."

"Says the glitch that somehow managed to get it into his fragged processor that it's a good idea to start ramming seekers like he'd changed his name to Ramjet."

"Hey! It fragging works -- unlike your it's-sparkly-can-I-touch-it attitude."

"Works!? Your CPU must have been dropped during your construction -- every time you run yourself into a Decepti-jet's fuselage, you knock yourself silly -- er, silly-er -- you slag heap of wasted circuitry."

"Yeah? You're higher than a seeker in orbit and twice as loony even without a medical excuse, so stick a crankshaft up your afterburner and rotate, slagsucker."

"I've heard better comebacks from an arc welder, you scrapheap reject."

And so on. And they didn't seem to care that almost everyone on the flight deck, in the hanger and in the communications tower could hear them.

It was worse once Fireflight was apparently patched up. Arguments escalated into fights that sent humans scurrying for safety and usually ended with the two of them pulling themselves out of the ocean.

"Give you 20 to 1 odds those two are brothers." Rossio heard one mechanic mutter to another, just as the static-y yell that signaled either Air Raid or Fireflight losing his temper echoed down into the hanger. The yell was followed first by a loud metal-on-metal clang! then the lower (but still loud) scrapes, clangs, and half-articulate insults of another fight.

"Sucker's bet." Muttered the second mechanic.

"Do alien robots even have brothers?" Chimed in a third.

At least they were usually quiet during mid watch, he reflected later, once again watching the ripples of greenish light stirred up by the _Hornet_'s wake.

Clatter-crash!

"Primus-fraggit Raid! Be careful."

"Look who's talking Mister-Two-Left-Wings."

"Take that back!"

"Not on your spark!" Crash! "Hey!"

Usually they were quiet during mid watch. The voices were coming from inside the hanger rather than the flight deck, so Rossio turned to see what was going on. Sure enough there were the aliens, crouched in the loading area, in the beginnings of yet another fight.

"Hey!" He shouted and two sets of blue lights focused on him. "You break it you buy it, flyboys. What the Hell are you doing down here?"

Lieutenant Rossio didn't consider himself any sort of expert in Alien Robot body language, but he could have sworn they both looked a bit sheepish. The two robots looked exactly the same, all shiny but slightly scorched chrome, but he was pretty sure the one that reclaimed his sense of arrogance first was Air Raid.

Fireflight though was the one who answered. "We're bored out of our processors and this slagger," here shoved Air Raid lightly, who shoved back and Rossio thought he'd have to derail another fight but Fireflight just continued talking, "finally pronounced me fit to fly -- not that he has more than the standard emergency medical programing --"

"It's not like I need more than that to tell you not to fly while I'm still picking bits of space rock out of your struts, slagger."

"-- so we thought we'd come down and see what was available."

Huh?

After a moment, Air Raid snickered. "I think you broke its processor, 'Flight. Whatever. What do you think of that one?" He pointed tot he nearest Raptor.

"I think that's what the Decepti-jets have -- so unless you want someone to bring up that crush you had on" he made a static-y buzz sound, "you should pick something else. Personally I like that one." Fireflight gestured to a Super Hornet.

Rossio just stood there as Air Raid eyed the jet critically and answered. "That was almost forty vorns ago -- I was a sparkling! And you would -- it's a bomber and you like those. Feel free, but I'd like something faster and that's" he pointed to the Raptor again, "the only other choice."

"What about those?" A silver hand flicked to the four Lightning IIs.

Air Raid's eye-light-things followed the gesture to the indicated aircraft and lit brighter. "Awesome! Those things are wicked cool."

Rossio had just manage to gather his thoughts back into coherency and was just about to demand that the two aliens tell him what the fucking Hell was going on, when something happened.

It started with just some clicking and whirring, then the two robots shifted and folded and collapsed in ways that twisted Rossio's brain into knots until the two robots were replaced by a black and white F-35C Lightning II with a red flame decal and a red and white F/A-18/F Super Hornet with black flames.

Then the two planes unfolded back into robots. The robots looked different though. Before they had just been chrome support struts and circuitry, now they were covered by colored armor panels. As soon as the transformations were complete they made their way back onto the flight deck. Rossio heard Air Raid's "C'mon -- let's get some flight time in while there aren't any buildings for you to crash into." The statement was followed by the roar of two jets taking off.

"Shit!" The alarms started going off and Rossio ran to the nearest intercom. "Stand down -- those are our two friendlies."

Two friendlies who were shaping up to be more trouble than enemy fire.

fini

notes: i think it's time for me to mention that in "roads" i pretty much see the autobot/decepticon war on earth evolving into a decepticon/human with the help of autobots war and that the humans aren't too bad at it once everyone has their act together. the existence of an outside enemy, actively attacking earth has mostly had a stabilizing effect on international relations. at the time this takes place, there are still exceptions who think they can negotiate with the 'cons (mostly countries that haven't been attacked yet). but that's all politics and i don't really like writing politics, so it's happening mostly in the background of what i'm writing.

also... everything i've found indicates that pearl harbor is the active naval base in hawaii. the brightly colored f-22s mentioned attacking china were dirge, thrust, and ramjet with their original colors. and a vorn is approx 83 years -- so forty vorns is 3,320 years. don't say anything about the aerialbots being younger than that -- they're still some of the last 'bots created before the allspark was lost.

the _uss hornet_ is the name of a retired world war 2 era aircraft carrier parked in san francisco, being used as a museum. i don't know if there's a _hornet_ currently in use and i don't care. i have some fond memories of that carrier-museum ... and it's those memories i'm using to co-ordinate moving around on a carrier.

various aircraft mentioned: the hv-22b osprey is a variant of the v-22 osprey helicopter specialized for use by the navy (for combat search and rescue among other things). as of 2007, the hv-22b has been planned, but not yet received funding. the f/a-18/f super hornet is currently the most advanced american fighter-bomber. the f-35 lighting 2 is the next advancement over the f-22s and is still in its first prototypes. in "roads" design, testing, and production of this craft has been stepped in response to the decepticons up but there still aren't many of them. the f-35c variant is for special use by the navy and to complement the capabilities of the f/a-18. and finally the f-22 raptor which should be familiar as starscream's alt.

yeah, i'm a geek.

special thanks to Doctor Egon who helped me with the research that inspired this. (if you're into either "ghostbusters" or "danny phantom", go check out his crossover.)


	8. Conversation 4

summary: replacement-verse. you should be careful what you say. and to whom.

disclaimer: i despise inane repetition

warnings: copious amounts of transformer swearing

Replacement: Roads, Conversation Four -- Air Raid, Fireflight, and Ironhide

Fireflight and Air Raid had no sooner transformed and landed, than Air Raid had insulted someone. Prime of all 'bots. And he was still running his vocalizer, despite Fireflight's efforts to get him to Shut The Frag Up!

He glanced at the other 'bots. The yellow mini-bot was staring at his brother in horrified fascination. The black cannon-toter was looking more and more livid with every syllable -- he probably would have started shooting already if Prime didn't have a restraining hand on him. And Prime looked amused.

That was the source of the vague uneasiness curling into Fireflight's processor. No commanding officer they'd served with had ever been amused at Air Raid's attitude. There was no reason to think the supreme commander of the Autobots should be any different. It usually got him thrown in the brig. Or shot -- like the big black mech clearly wanted.

"... glitched to send a recall to slagging rock hea-aaaaahhh!!"

That take off and transformation was fast even for Air Raid. Fireflight glanced around again -- Prime was still amused and the black mech was starting to mirror that -- then took off after his brother, transforming when he was high enough.

" -at the fragging Pit is this thing?" Air Raid was yelling, without even bothering to broadcast.

Fireflight swooped closer trying to see what was there. It wasn't easy to see the thing clinging to the F-35's wing past the rolls and turns he was doing to try and dislodge the thing, but...he could just make out the shape of some sort of arthropod shaped mechanism with two big claw-cannons. "It looks like a Decepticon creature drone," he broadcasted over a radio channel.

Air Raid switched to the same radio frequency. "I don't care -- just get it the frag off of me!"

"How the frag do you suppose I do that, slagsucker? Shoot it?"

"No! You're enough a menace in the air without _aiming_ for me!"

"Then how?"

"Fraggitall! I don't slagging know, you little glitch! Pit spawned little glitch! Soon as I get you off my slagging wing I'm going to vaporize ever glitching piece of you! Slowly!"

"Oh yeah -- 'cause that's incentive for it to behave."

"Mute it, glitching slag heap!"

Sideswipe, Fireflight thought would likely be proud to hear the heights of invective Air Raid reached (In fact, Fireflight was impressed. He wondered if some of those were threats were physically possible. And just how did Air Raid intend to carry them all out on the same mechanism -- several would completely destroy the transformer in question. Idly he checked to make sure he was recording Air Raid's rant. He'd want to memorize a few of those for future use and if the other Aerialbots ever showed up they'd be interested. Silverbolt especially would be interested in what Air Raid was broadcasting over and open channel with Prime listening -- maybe he should start thinking blackmail...) in the breem before the black mech's voice broke in over the radio channel. "Come down and apologise ta Prime and he'll leave you alone."

"WHAT!?"

"You two slaggers heard me."

When it became clear that Air Raid's only answer was going to be more swearing, Fireflight answered instead. "With all due respect, Sir, that's a Decepticon drone."

"Critter thinks he belongs ta Optimus. Come down and apologize and he'll let go."

"Not before the slagging stars explode and the universe dies in glitching plasma fire!" Fireflight winced. Air Raid really needed a few filtering programs between his CPU and his vocalizer.

"Suit yourself. You'll run out of fuel eventually. Just remember that if you hurt Scorponok, Prime'll be fragged good." Click!

"Like I care if glitching Prime is fragged off for dinging his glitching, Pit-spawned pet!"

"Air Raid, will you Shut The Frag Up!?"

"No, you virus-infested bi-plane!"

This was going to be a long flight. At least he wasn't using as much fuel as his brother. And since he wasn't busy trying to shake a Decepticon drone that apparently thought it belonged to the Autobots' Prime (He wondered how that could have happened. There had been cases of mechs switching sides, but he'd never heard of a drone doing so before. He hadn't thought it was possible.) off of his wing, he could enjoy the scenery. Even if it was passing under him at something above the speed of sound in this atmosphere. He'd never been on a planet that had so much variation on it's surface. Look, the sandy area where they'd met Prime had already given way to an area covered in tall organic constructs. Maybe he should pull up...

fini

notes: i'm blaming this on ObivionDragon. that's all there is to it.

and the timeline has been updated to include this story. in fact i intend to update the timeline every time i add a new story, so if you're confused about where a "roads" story fits with the others, check there.

and i've made some minor edits to "arrivals" in response to a few reviews.


	9. Directions

summary: replacement sequel. baby sitting is a pain in the aft -- even when your charge is being disturbingly well behaved.

disclaimer: i doubt i'll get transformers for christmas. i definitely don't own them now. and my favorite running joke means i'm back to disclaiming christmas music.

warnings: transformer and human swearing (still)

Replacement: Roads -- Directions

Ironhide did not so much as twitch when something tapped gently against his hubcap. He'd known Scorponok was there, expected him to show up. In fact the Decepticon -- former Decepticon, he reminded himself -- was the reason he was here and not at the Lennoxs'.

So he was expecting the tap, was in fact expecting more than a tap -- Scorponok usually didn't care what form his victim was in and his usual method of greeting another transformer was to climb on him. "Timid" was not a term Ironhide had ever associated with Scorponok, either in the vorns that they'd been enemies or the four months since he'd "adopted" Optimus. But "timid" was an accurate description for the Decepticon drone now -- after the tap he'd scuttled away from the truck and Ironhide could see his back sets of legs were dug into the dry grass and soil. Scorponok was ready to flee.

Which confused Ironhide, but he chose not to make an issue of it. It was a slagging good thing the 'Con feared him as far as he was concerned. So he just dropped his tailgate and said, "What in the Pit are you waiting for, bug?"

Scorponok crept toward the big black truck and timidly -- timid still -- climbed into Ironhide's truck bed, careful not to so much as scratch his paint -- another consideration very out of character for the 'Con. Once settled, he crouched into a defensive pose making himself as small as possible. Grumbling, Ironhide stared his engine, switched his sound system to the CD he'd borrowed fro Will, and headed back to the Lennoxs' -- about an hour and a half drive from his current location. Scorponok just sat there in his little defensive huddle.

Three days ago he'd gotten a transmission from Optimus. Ratchet had picked up an Autobot signal, approaching Earth, broadcasting his identi-code. His trajectory put him landing in eastern Canada, well away from California and Nevada, where the Autobots had settled in. Prime had been closest -- on his way back from a meeting with Defense Secretary Keller -- as well as Dr. Jackson and Scorponok.

Prime'd thought it better to postpone the meeting between the new Autobot and the Decepticon defector until more controlled circumstances, and sent the drone to Ironhide while he and Dr. Jackson went and met the newcomer. He'd very specifically told Ironhide, "He knows he has to behave. You will not threaten or harm him unless he threatens you or Captain Lennox and his family. And you will both be in one piece when I get there or you had better have a good reason why not.

So he'd borrowed a couple of CDs full of "Christmas music" -- it being the beginning of April and no where near Christmas -- in the hopes that the music would keep the -- usually rambunctious -- little fragger quiet for the drive. After that he wasn't sure what the was going to do with the bug. He wanted to just drop Scorponok someplace out of his way and hope they could ignore each other until Prime came, but he had a responsibility, as an Autobot and because Prime'd said the fragging little defector would be protected, to make sure the 'Con was supervised.

Which meant putting up with the slagging bug's antics. Without shooting him.

Scorponok hadn't moved from his defensive huddle the entire time and made no noise, meaningful or otherwise. Ironhide wasn't sure whether it was the music or his newly developed fear that kept the drone quiet. He wasn't sure he cared.

Will was waiting in front of the house with the garage door open when he pulled up. Ironhide was pleased to note that his bonded and their sparkling were no where in range of his sensors. And that Will had an anti-tank gun slung over his shoulder. He pulled into the garage and once Will had closed the door, he dropped his tailgate.

"Down bug."

Still displaying that out of character timidness, Scorponok climbed down and hunkered into that same defensive pose.

"Hey, 'Hide." Will strode from the garage door controls, around Ironhide, giving him a pat on the hood in greeting. "Glad you're back. I sent Sarah and Anna out to dinner. Figured if we were going to have a problem, it'd be better if they weren't here. Are we going to have a problem?" The question was had, cold, and directed at Scorponok.

Who pulled himself lower to the concrete floor, almost cowering away from the human, optics on Ironhide, and scraped to armor plates together to make the sound Will himself had established as a negative answer when talking to Scorponok. Will's brow furrowed a bit.

"Christ, 'Hide. What did you say to him?"

"Nothing." Why did Lennox assume it was his fault? Besides it wasn't like it was a slagging bad thing if the 'Con was a bit scared.

"Not sure I believe you." Will stepped closer to run a gentle hand over a cool claw-cannon, obviously trying to sooth the bug. It was too close and Ironhide tensed on his axles. Scorponok flinched.

Lennox sighed. "Hey, look at me." He tapped a panel of the 'Con's armor. Six red optics shifted minutely to focus on the human rather than the big, black Topkick. "You can't stay where you are -- when Sarah gets home she'd gonna want to park her car in that spot -- so we can either put a tarp up in the backyard, or we can park 'Hide in the driveway."

Ironhide growled at the thought of giving up his comfortable spot to a Decepticon and didn't even notice the way Scorponok scuttled a few feet further away from him. Or the way Will glowered at him.

Skirr-click, was bug's timid answer.

"Backyard it is." He went and opened the garage door enough for Scorponok to crawl out -- which he did fragging fast -- but not enough for Ironhide to follow. Not that that could stop him if he decided to follow. Ironhide was perfectly capable of transmitting the short radio code to open the door himself. Without a word he closed the big door and went in the human-sized door to the house.

Alone, Ironhide got the distinct impression Will was mad at him. Which confused him. Fraggit, he hadn't done anything. He kept sensor on both Scorponok and Will as Will set up the tarp to keep Scorponok hidden and protected from the elements. Nothing happened, but no way was Ironhide going to relax.

He heard Will talking, instructing the 'Con on how to use an old CD player. He also said very firmly that the player was old, the only reason they still had it was because it worked well enough but no one else would want it, and the CDs were all copies, so no one would be mad at him if he accidentally broke anything. Then a human male's voice started chanting some song about a boy and a drum, pa-rum-pa-pum-pum, laced with static from the old speakers. A human wouldn't have been able to hear the song through the garage wall, but Ironhide wasn't limited to a human's hearing.

The garage door whirred to life behind him and Sarah Lennox's little Civic took its spot next to him. The engine shut off and driver's door clicked open.

"Hey, Ironhide." She pulled Annabelle out of the car seat. No way, no how was one of those things ever being put inside him.

"Hello, Sarah Lennox. Your bonded has set Scorponok up in the backyard, so don't let your sparkling play out there."

"Gotcha. And how many times do I have to tell you? 'Husband' not 'bonded', and 'child' not 'sparkling'."

"Sarking!" was Annabelle's comment.

"A sparkling's a sparkling." He ignored the part about 'husband and 'bonded'. Humans just made the entire concept too complicated, as far as he was concerned. And he did not want to start another tirade about gender roles he didn't understand.

"I could argue that until the sun burns out and you'd still say that. Say 'hi' to Ironhide, honey."

"Hi Ian-hi!" The sparkling waved from her creator's arms.

"Hello, Annabelle Lennox."

"Hey, ladies." Will sauntered into the garage from the house.

"Da-ii!"

He grinned and gave them each a kiss. "I'll be in in a minute, Sweetie. Ironhide and I need to have a man-to-truck talk."

"And I'm not invited. Don't be too long." She and her sparkling retreated into the house.

The door clicked shut, and "Seriously, 'Hide. What did you say to Scorponok?"

"I haven't said more than twelve words to the 'Con. Prime was very explicit on the subject of threatening him."

"Well some thing's wrong. He's terrified -- no way it's of me. He took half a dozen hits from air-to-ground ordinance in Qatar. My little shooter can't do that much damage, sabot rounds or no sabot rounds. Which means he's scared of you." He poked Ironhide's hood.

"So what?"

"You're kidding? I've tagged along with you guys enough in the last four months to know he's not afraid of you. So why's he acting like this now?"

"Don't know. Don't care."

Ironhide had enough familiarity with Will to know that look was faintly disgusted. "Well then, I think he can stay in the yard and you can stay here -- with a wall between you."

"He's a slagging 'Con!"

"Was, Ironhide. Was a slagging 'Con. With no choice in the matter, before or after he was built, until he was almost literally the last Decepticon on the damn planet." The vehemence in Will's voice mane Ironhide jerk back on his wheels. "If he wanted to stay a Decepticon he could have stayed hidden until one showed up -- we certainly weren't having any luck finding him. Hell, we thought he was still in the Middle East right up until he climbed into Optimus."

"He's killed Autobots. He tried to kill you."

"What part of 'didn't have a choice' don't you understand?"

"The part where I should feel bad about him being slagging scared of me."

Will gifted him with another disgusted look and stalked into the house, slamming the door behind him.

He listened to the humans moving around and talking. Sarah was insisting that she meet Scorponok, saying she had a right to meet anyone staying at their house. Will was cautioning her that, while he didn't think the drone'd attack, it could still be dangerous -- he wasn't used to humans, and the Decepticons didn't exactly teach him how to be gentle. Sarah countered that she was going out to meet their guest. If she did it now, Will could come with her. Ironhide ran his scanners over them as they left the house. Will had his anti-tank gun.

At least whatever weird ideas that were turning him against Ironhide weren't completely blinding him.

"He doesn't talk, like Ironhide does." He was telling her. "We've tried teaching him Morse code, but things keep getting scrambled -- some sort of programing block, Ratchet says."

"Poor thing," she said. "He's being quiet."

"He's usually not. Normally he's pretty rambunctious. And a bit demanding -- he likes being petted."

Sarah's sensor profile moved closer to Scorponok's. The Decepticon's didn't move. Ironhide heard a metallic shivering sound from the 'Con.

"What does that mean, Will?"

"That he's scared, I think."

"Of me?"

"It's not impossible to hurt him, Sarah, and if you did, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it without Ironhide retaliating." Slagging right.

The shivering quieted as Sarah's hand must have actually come in contact with the bug. "Hello Scorponok. My name is Sarah."

Krr-click?

"What..."

"That's a question -- not a specific one, just curiosity."

Alright. I'm Will's wife -- his 'bonded', I guess. A female bonded...I don't know what else to say. Do you really like being petted?"

Chirr.

"Yes." Will translated without prompting.

"Are you sure? I mean...how do you know?"

"If the answer was 'no', I probably wouldn't need to translate, would I Scorponok?"

Whirr.

"Smart-ass."

"What?"

"Means he doesn't know."

That sounded like it was getting way too cozy. Unfortunately there wasn't anything he could do about it without disobeying Prime's very explicit orders. So he just sat there and fumed. Slagging stupid 'Con -- the sensor profile didn't so much a twitch. If it had...but no. So his temper just got worse.

And certainly didn't abate over the next few days. Will was still mad at him and took the Civic whenever he needed to go anywhere -- even waiting for his bonded to get home before leaving. that could have been so Ironhide didn't have to let Scorponok out of sensor range, except he wouldn't talk to him. He talked to slagging Scorponok instead.

The good news was that after just a few days he got a transmission from Optimus -- the Autobot had landed and crossed the US border without a hitch. He'd only be babysitting the 'Con for another week at most.

Scorponok...hadn't moved, except to adjust the ancient CD player.

That realization, after Prime's message, finally jolted Ironhide. Scorponok was never, as far as he knew, still for that long. Even if he wouldn't move from underneath the tarp, he should be practically pacing by now. The bug was terrified -- not just scared or wary of an Autobot, honestly terrified of -- of...

Of Ironhide. When he never had been before, not even in battle.

"I didn't say anything to him, Will," he spoke up as Will got out of the Civic. "But he hasn't moved. Slaggit -- I've heard Prime complaining that the fragger can't sit still and he hasn't moved. In days."

Will looked at him as though considering the pros and cons of continuing his silent treatment, then sighed. "No he hasn't. I think...if you decided to shoot him -- or kick him or anything really -- Optimus isn't here to stop you."

"Optimus's orders..."

"Think about it, Ironhide. Without a true link to Optimus, you are essentially his master at the moment. I don't know about Decepticons, but humans were rarely very kind to their slaves. He's got Optimus pegged as a softie, but you -- you don't like him at all."

"I'm not a slagging 'Con."

"And who would have taught him there's a difference?"

Not the Decepticons, Ironhide concluded an hour later. And after a week, when Prime messaged that he was back in the area and wanted everyone to meet with the newcomer, Ironhide was more than ready to dump the disturbingly quiet 'Con back on Optimus and try and forget about it.

fini

notes: yeah i hate the ending too. the problem is i can't see his realization changing his behavior just yet. what it does do though is pave the way for the abrupt 180 in attitude ironhide does in about two months when optimus is attacked (as described in "perceptions").

and yes, ironhide and will are fighting when it comes to scorponok. ironhide just thinks of scorponok as a decepticon, an enemy. will also thinks scorponok could be dangerous -- he's military and scorponok tried to kill him -- but the first time someone described scorponok as a "slave" it triggered a bunch of anti-slavery american acculturation, which is making him (and probably every other human who knows) reflexively think of him as a victim. they're butting heads over it.

slightly random -- i was thinking about the way transformers use the words 'spark' and 'sparkling'. a 'spark' is a cybertronian soul and the suffix '-ling' is a diminutive meaning 'little' or 'young'. so 'sparkling' is literally 'little soul' or 'young soul' rather than 'child' which is 'a person of either sex between infancy and youth'. which makes more sense if transformers are brought online as adults who just lack experience than if they're born then grow up. because if their life cycle was anything like a human's they'd just use the human words instead of coming up with something my spellcheck hates.

really random -- the other day i sent a slinky down the main stairwell of my dorm building. it was fun for all of ten minutes until the ra caught me and told me to stop.


	10. Conversation 5

summary: in teaching, the teacher learns about the student.

disclaimer: don't own. not sure i'd wanna own. they get themselves into a lot of trouble, don't they

warnings: confusion and misuse of english and non-english words, binary, morse code, and probably more that i'm forgetting to mention. dialogue only fic.

Replacement: Roads, Conversation 5 -- William Lennox, Optimus Prime, and Scorponok

"You think you have it, Scorponok?"

Chirr

"Alright, say your name."

... -.-. --- .-. .--. --- -. --- -.- (Scorponok)

"And mine."

-.-. .- .--. - .- .. -. / .-.. . -. -. --- -..- (Captain Lennox)

"Cool. This is working. So, I'm guessing 'Scorponok' isn't how your name translates exactly, is it?"

Scrape-buzz

"Say it in Morse."

-. . --. .- - .. --- -. -..-. -. --- -..-. -. . --. .- - .. ...- .(negation/no/negative)

"Close enough. It's an equivalent you chose, like Ratchet's isn't really 'ratchet'."

.- ..-. ..-. .. .-. -- .- - .. --- -. (affirmation)

"So what's a good translation?"

. -.- .. -.-. ... ..- ..- -...- -. --. ./-.. .- -. --. . .-. / -. --- - / ... . -. ... . -.. (ekichuu-nge danger not sensed)

"That first word didn't make much sense, but 'hidden danger' is a pretty apt description of you. How does it lead to 'Scorponok'?"

-- . - .- .--. ... --- .-. ... .-.-.-/. -.- .. -.-. ... ..- ..- -...- -. --. . / - ---/--.. ..- -... .- -. .- .-.. .- -.- .-. .- -... / .- -. -.. / .-.. . ... .- - .../- --- / .- -. - .- .-. . ... -..-. .- -.-. .-. .- -... -..-. -.. ... -.-. ... ..- -... -... .- -...- -...- ... -.-. --- .-. .--. .. ..- .../.-- ... --- / -.- .. .-.. .-.. . -.. / --- .-. .. --- -. -...- - ... . -...- .--. . .- -.-. . ..-. ..- .-../--- ..- - -...- --- ..-. -...- ..- - ... .. -.- - / .-- ... .. -.-. ... / .. ... / - ... . / . -..- . -- .--. .-.. .- .-./.--. .- .-. .- -- . - . .-. / --- ..-. / ..-. ..- -. -.-. - .. --- -. / .-- .-. .. - - . -. / -... -.-- / .- .- -. -. . -- . .-. -...- -...- -. --- .--/--- ...- . .-. .-. .. -.. -.. . -. .-.-.- (metaphors. ekichuu-nge to zubanalakrab and lesath to antares/acrab/dschubba--scorpius who killed orion-the-peacful out-of-utsikt which is the exemplar parameter of function written by Aannemer--now overridden.)

"What?"

Krr-click?

"That didn't make much sense. What's that word you repeated? E-K-I-"

. -.- .. -.-. ... ..- ..- -...- -. --. . ..--.. (ekichuu-nge?)

"Yeah, that one."

----- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- .---- ----- .---- (0110010101)

"Whoa! Stop. That's binary...i'm guessing that means there really isn't an equivalent. What about the word near the end? Was that a name?"

.- -. ... .-- . .-. / .. ... / -.-. --- -. - .-. .- -.. .. -.-. - --- .-. -.-- (answer is contradictory)

"How?"

-. .- -- . -..-. .--. .-. --- .--. . .-. -...- -. --- ..- -. -...- -...- .- ..-. ..-. .. .-. -- .- - .. --- -. .-.-.-/-. .- -- . -..-. -.. . ... .. --. -. .- - .. --- -. -...- -...- -. . --. .- - .. --- -. (name/proper-noun--affirmation. name/designation--negation)

"Okay, we'll leave that one alone then. Who's 'Orion-the-peaceful'?"

. . .-. ... - ./----- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- .---- ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- .---- ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- .---- ----- ----- .----/-.. . -.-. . .--. - .. -.-. --- -. (eerste 0110010101101110011001010110110101111001 decepticon)

"Somehow, this isn't working as well as I thought it would. The only thing I recognized out of that was 'Decepticon'. What about you Optimus?"

"The binary sequence is 'enemy'. I did not recognize the third word."

Whine

"We're not upset at you, Scorponok. The question is--why aren't you making sense?"

.. -. -.-. .- .-.. -.-. ..- .-.. .- -... .-.. . .-.-.- / .-.. .- -. --. ..- .- --. . -...- .--. --- ... ... . ... ... .. ...- . -...- ... --- -.-. .. ..- ... / -.- -. --- .-- -. .-.-.- / -.-. --- -.. . / -.- -. --- .-- -. .-.-.- / ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- / .--. . .-. ... .. ... - ... .-.-.- (incalculable. language-possessive-socius known. code known. 0110010101110010011100100110111101110010 persists.)

"'Error', Captain Lennox."

"Thanks Optimus. S-O-C-I-U-S?"

-.-. .- .--. - .- .. -. .-.. . -. -. --- -..- ... .- -- .-- .. - .-- .. -.-. -.- -.-- -- .. -.- .- . .-.. .- -... .- -. . ... .-. --- -... . .-. - . .--. .--. ... ... . -.-. .-. . - .- .-. -.-- --- ..-. -.. . ..-. . -. ... . -.- . .-.. .-.. . .-(captainlennoxsamwitwickymikaelabanesroberteppssecretaryofdefensekeller)

"Me, Sam, Mikaela, Epps and Keller--human allies?"

Chirr

"So English."

Chirr

"So it's getting scrambled between the two."

Chirr

"Huh? Well...that's the extent of my insight."

"But not mine--there may be an error in Scorponok's processor that's causing this. Ratchet might be able to find out more."

Scrape-buzz! -- . -.. .. -.-. -..-. .-. .- -.-. -.- -...- -.. .. -- .. -. ..- - .. ...- . / ..- - ... .. -.- - -...- -- . -. ... / -- . -. - .. ... / -. . --. .- - .. ...- . / .--. . .-. -- .. - . -.. -..-. .- .-.. .-.. --- .-- . -.. .-.-.- / ... .. -. --. ..- .-.. .- .-. / .-. .. --. ... - / --- ..-. / ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- ----- ----- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- .---- ----- ----- ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- (medic/rack-diminutive utsikt-mens mentis negative permited/allowed. singular right of 011011010110000101110011011101000110010101110010)

"'Master'. 'Singular right of Master', Scorponok?"

Chirr

"I am not equipped to do a processor sca--"

"Optimus?"

"He attempted to link. His command link would allow me to examine his processor coding."

Chirr .- .-.. - . .-. .- / .--. .- .-. .- -- . - . .-. / --- ..-. / ..-. ..- -. -.-. - .. --- -. / .-- .-. .. - - . -. / -... -.-- / .- .- -. -. . -- . .-. -...- -...- --- ...- . .-. .-- .-. .. - . / .--. --- ... ... .. -... .. .-.. .. - -.-- / -. ..- ... --.- ..- .- -- / . ... ... . (altera parameter of function written by Aannemer--overwrite possibility nusquam esse)

"And you cannot overwrite that 'altera parameter of function' to allow an examination by Ratchet?"

Scrape-buzz

"Not even if I order it?"

Scrape-buzz ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- ----- ----- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- .---- ----- ----- ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- -...- .--. .-. . ..-. . .-. .- -. -.-. . / ..- -. .- -... .-.. . - --- . -. ..-. --- .-. -.-. . / -.-. --- -- -- .- -. -.. / .. -. / -.-. --- -. - .-. .- -.. .. -.-. - .. --- -. / --- ...- . .-. / .--. .- .-. .- -- . - . .-. -...- .--. .-.. ..- .-. .- .-.. / --- ..-. / ..-. ..- -. -.-. - .. --- -. / ..- -. .--. --- ... ... . ... ... .. -. --. -..-. . -- - -.-- / ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- .---- .---- ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- ----- ----- .---- .---- ----- ----- .---- ----- .---- (011011010110000101110011011101000110010101110010-preferance unabletoenforce command in contradiction over parameter-plural of function unpossessing/emty 011011000110100101101110011010110010000001101110011011110110010001100101)

"I see."

"Glad one of us does, Optimus."

"Unfortunately there might not be anything to be done about that. Even if Ratchet could examine Scorponok's coding--which 'singular right of master' seems to indicate he wouldn't allow--there might not be any way to alter it."

"Well that sucks."

fini

notes: this was written over more than six hours of boredom spent in an airport with wi-fi. plus another four hours once i got home, because i didn't want to leave it unfinished. go me. i'm not clearing up the words/binary used because scorponok is not meant to be understood. however, i would love to be amused by speculation. 


	11. Secrets

summary: replacement series. sometimes there are just somethings you're better off not knowing

disclaimer: i don't feel well enough to come up with something witty right now.

warnings: just the usual -- transformer swearing.

Replacement: Roads -- Secrets

"Prime!"

"Yes, Ratchet."

The bright yellow medic stalked over to the leader of the Autobots. "What is this Lennox was telling me about an error?"

"Error?"

"In Scorponok's coding?"

Scorponok, clamped to Optimus's hip, made a hiss of displeasure. One of Optimus's hands dropped to stroke the scorpion along the armor on his back. "It didn't matter. Despite the error, he quite clearly conveyed that it would be impossible to grant you permission for a processor scan, and since you cannot do a scan without permission, I thought it best not to mention it."

"Slag and scrap! You know I can do an emergency scan in cases where there's evidence of an error possibly detrimental to the patient -- which from Lennox described, it fits."

Scorponok hissed again, this time with a slight aggressive rattling undertone. Ratchet watched the drone. His forcefields remained powered so Ratchet's medical scanners weren't giving him any information, but the four red optics were brighter than they should have been and flickered like the movement of human eyes during their REM cycle. Even without a medical scan, he could see the signs of a hard-programmed response -- in this case aggression.

It changed a few things if Scorponok was hard-programmed not to allow anyone to look at his coding. Oh, what he said to Optimus about emergencies still applied, but he could see why Optimus -- whose primary function was actually to mediate conflicts among his troops so they remained an effective unit -- would choose not to mention Scorponok's error. Ironhide was still looking for any excuse to denounce the drone as a Decepticon assassin. And if Scorponok's response to someone trying to examine his processor was to attack...it could have gotten messy.

Ratchet opened a private communication channel with his leader. "Prime."

Optimus responded on the same channel. "Yes Ratchet."

"I want you to record this statement and attach all verifications that I am who I am and that I am under no outside influence."

That got him a curious look, but the truck did what was asked. Ratchet could feel Prime's limited medical scanners as they checked him over as thoroughly as they could. "Verified. Recording."

"Whatever happens in the next few breems is my fault. Are you slagging listening Ironhide? Don't you blame him for something I'm provoking. End recording."

Prime looked amused. Of course he could hear what he was recording. He also looked slightly relieved. "Prime," he continued over the still closed channel, "I want you to stay out of it too." That killed both the amusement and the relief.

"But -- "

"No 'but's Prime. My message to Ironhide only covers me. If you get caught in it he'll have a fit."

Firmly he disengaged his battle programing and centered his emotions. Scorponok was a patient -- unruly and possibly violent in this situation, but still -- not a target. He did not need battle programming to deal with a patient.

Then Ratchet turned to Scorponok, who seemed to sense what the medic was planning and let go of Optimus to drop to the ground -- where he could burrow and the medic would never catch him. "No you don't, slagger." Faster than should have been possible, Ratchet caught the scorpion's tail before he could touch the earth.

Undeterred he twisted up to bite the hand holding him and bit it, harder than he'd ever bitten one of the Autobots before. Ratchet cursed, and grabbed at Scorponok's armor behind his head. With a screech he powered up his claw-cannons and shot. One blast put scorch marks in armor and burnt wiring in the medic's leg. He just barely managed not to allow himself to fall. Letting go of the tail he quickly dug through the wiring around Scorponok's head to find the cable he needed to yank to offline his patient. He found it, just as Scorponok buried his tail stinger in the arm holding him. Scorponok fell unconscious.

Eventually his self-repair would reconnect that cable, but by that point Ratchet would be connected to his CPU and that would the slagger offline until he was done.

Carefully he unhooked the stinger from his arm. He looked over his wounds. He looked like he'd been attacked and Ironhide was going to throw a fit. His arm was the worst -- he was going to have to re-solder some wires right away.

"Are you alright, Ratchet?"

Ratchet didn't look up from the repairs on his arm. "Yes Prime -- Slagger was trying to escape more than anything. It's definitely been hard wired into him not to let anyone look at his code, but he's got some leeway in how to prevent it. Don't know if you caught it, but he was trying not to damage me too much. He'll have some nasty firewalls though."

Usually medics had codes to get into a mech's processor in an emergency, but Ratchet doubted his Autobot codes would be acknowledged by the Decepticon-programmed firewalls. He did have a few Decepticon medical override codes taken from prisoners saved in his memory banks, and he'd try them, but they weren't recent and even if Scorponok had ever been programed to allow a medic through, the codes might be too old. Which would leave Ratchet navigating past the drone's firewalls on his own. Fun. Not.

Finished with his arm, he off-lined his optics to concentrate on his own processor. First, he re-familiarized himself with the drone initialization program Scorponok had transmitted to him a couple of hours after he'd climbed into Optimus that first time. It lacked the final authorization, which had allowed Ratchet to examine the program at the time without initializing a link, but even without it Ratchet could force the issue. So he familiarized himself with the program so he could avoid it. Above and beyond getting a look at his coding and finding the errors, his first priority was that he not link Scorponok.

Then he brought up his own special medic's firewalls, designed to protect him from other firewalls without inhibiting his ability to perceive the other mech's coding. And finally he readied his medical bypass codes -- both his Autobot ones and the stolen Decepticon ones -- on the off chance any of them would work.

"Ratchet...?"

"Shut up and let me concentrate."

Gently he connected to Scorponok's CPU.

Examining a mech's code wasn't anything like what humans imagined telepathy to be. There wasn't imagery or any real communication. A medical scan couldn't even touch the patient's memory banks. There was just code. The outer edges of which were "sensory" (for lack of a better word) coding and firewalls.

Ratchet perceived Scorponok's sensory coding react to his connection and shift things around, but he couldn't tell right away what was being shifted. He looked at the firewalls. He hadn't even touched them and they seemed as every bit as nasty as he'd predicted they'd be, but there was an anomaly. A weak point in the defensive programming. He started to examine it, then pulled back when one of those shifts blocked his way. It wasn't a strong shift, but there wasn't any point in battering through when he wasn't sure what the effect would be.

The block dissolved when he pulled back. Ratchet looked at the weak point again -- there shouldn't be any weak spots in a mech's firewalls. This time he perceived a few lines of the code making up the weak spot before a block formed. Again he allowed himself to be rebuffed, letting his awareness of Scorponok's processors fade almost completely while he examined that little bit he'd perceived.

It was a piece of the initialization program. He'd thought that might me the case, but wanted to make sure. And now that he was sure, Ratchet wasn't going to touch that part of his patient's code again.

Attention back on those nasty firewalls, Ratchet transmitted each medical override code -- first his Autobot ones and then the Decepticon ones, waiting a tick after each for a response. Nothing, until he got to one of the oldest stolen codes, this one just under twenty-five vorns old. Like the ripples from a stone being thrown in a puddle, Scorponok's firewall coding switched from active to inactive.

Allowing himself a metaphorical sigh of relief that he wouldn't have to fight his way through those firewalls, Ratchet started examining Scorponok's programming. He started with the relative simplicity of motor functions, which were there. He now knew more than he really wanted to about how he aimed and fired his tail than he really wanted, and after a moment determined there was nothing wrong there. He moved on to more complicated mental algorithms.

There was one collection of files so closely related to motor functions it was almost impossible not to examine them next. It took some doing to interpret, as the concept was almost as foreign to him as that of human clothing. Each file was how to produce a sound effect, with tags describing how the Autobots and their human allies interpreted the sounds. Even which sounds were more appropriate to use in the presence of different individuals. Taking a quick glance at the time stamps associated with the files and their tags, he realized the drone was updating them almost constantly.

This was part of Scorponok's self written code. He skimmed over the rest of it just to make sure, but from what Lennox had said, Ratchet didn't think the problem would be in anything the drone had written himself. He was somewhat appalled at some of what he found. The implications -- even without the associated memories -- were upsetting. He examined the coding associated with his English comprehension, and then the file containing the Lennox's "Morse Code". Both were uncorrupted. As was that involved with his Cybertronian comprehension.

He found the deeper programming -- the stuff his creator had instilled in him when he was being built. There was a bunch code associated with this side of the initialization program. Ratchet left that alone. He could see, without examining it closely, that all of it was inactive -- meaning that the problem wasn't there -- and he didn't want to risk engaging the command links. And there were a list of prohibitions that could only be overridden by use of the command links. Allowing any examination of his programming code was on that list -- that was why Scorponok had had such leeway when it came to an appropriate response; the command "don't" was there, but how he prevented it was left to his own discretion.

It was depressing to realize exactly how long that list was, but, as much as Ratchet hated that he had to admit it, the problem wasn't there.

"Moving" in a different direction he found something that may be responsible for the effects Lennox had described. It was intertwined with the deeper portion of his lingual subroutines, funneling complex output through the drone initialization program. But if that was responsible, it wasn't a glitch. It was deliberate and worked perfectly. Just to be sure, he examined the rest of Scorponok's programming --

-- and ran into something that felt like a very hastily constructed firewall. The "attack" wasn't very powerful, but still crackled along the medic's own firewalls before subsiding. Worried -- internal defenses where there shouldn't be any were sometimes a sign of a virus -- Ratchet started combing through the firewall programing to see what was behind it. It didn't take long to realize that the firewall had the distinct "feel" of Scorponok's other self written programming. Scorponok had built this himself, and, perceiving the time stamp, less than thirty human minutes ago -- about the time Ratchet had started to confront Optimus about scanning Scorponok's processor.

He stopped. So whatever was behind that was something the drone specifically didn't want him to know. Usually Ratchet would take the self-built firewalls as a sign that patient knew exactly what was there and allow the patient his privacy. But on the other hand, Scorponok had been an enemy until very recently. While Ratchet wasn't as rabidly distrustful as, say Ironhide -- didn't in fact have any of the almost reflexive dislike either of the war-built Autobots had -- he still knew that any thing the Decepticons tried to keep secret was something the Autobots would be better off knowing.

He started working his way through the firewall again. It was hastily constructed and somewhat incomplete, like he'd copied the firewall program from a file, but had deleted pieces. And none of it was based off his outer firewalls, which was a common habit when a mech was firewalling specific bits of code. Why was obvious -- those outer firewalls were nasty and might have burned out the medic's processor if he'd made a mistake; this one was mostly non-agressive, trying to block, redirect, or using milder "attacks" to try and discourage the invasion. Finally, he was nearly through when something triggered, switching the firewall from active to inactive with something that might have been resignation, if expression of emotion had been possible at this level. He got his first look at the part of his programming Scorponok had been hiding.

This was damaged. That was the first thing he noticed. The damage was old too -- older than the first Autobot kill definitely attributed to Scorponok -- and, disturbingly, had the self-written feel to it Ratchet was beginning to recognize. Scorponok had done this to himself, not long after he would have first come online. Why?

To answer that, he tried to first find out what had been damaged. Ratchet recognized it -- he'd seen such programming before in Decepticon-builts. It was re-enforcement that he was a Decepticon and that the Autobots were enemies.

There was also a mission statement, written by his creator, to kill a specific Autobot: Orion Pax, or as it was also written in the command, Optimus Prime.

Surprise pulled his awareness back into his own processor and broke the connection. He onlined to the almost twin sounds of Scorponok's shriek and his own cry.

Scorponok backed away from the two larger mechs, shivering in fear. Ratchet saw his back legs start to dig into the dirt.

"Optimus! Don't let him -- !"

Prime didn't hesitate. He grabbed the half-burrowed scorpion, digging a large furrow in the ground in the process, coming up with almost as much dirt as metal. Contrary to Ratchet might have expected though, the Decepticon drone didn't make any other attempts to so much a move once caught, just shivered there in Optimus's hand. He shook his head to try and clear the static from his thoughts -- a useless human gesture, that didn't do anything but make Optimus worry.

"What happened, Ratchet? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just...give me a breem."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm slagging sure, you overprotective glitch."

Shaking his head again, Ratchet dimmed his optics to sort what he'd just found -- Scorponok's primary function, above even being an obedient little drone, was to kill Prime. Logically that meant that he should do everything in his power to make sure they weren't even on the same planet. But...that part of his code was damaged, so damaged that Ratchet would be surprised if Scorponok had even identified himself as a Decepticon after the damage had been inflicted. Self inflicted. Scorponok had wanted to kill that bit of code, and had done a slagging pretty good job of it too. He made a decision.

He cycled air through his vents and brightened his optics, to find Optimus eyeing him in concern. "My friend, what happened?"

Ratchet made a noisy sighing sound, then sneered at himself. Slagging humans. Being on this planet was affecting him, making use their sound effects to express emotion, like a human. "Nothing Optimus. I just found something he didn't want found."

"And he attacked you?"

"No. It just surprised me. I can tell you that what's causing his language error is that anything more complex than can be conveyed in his normal manner gets funneled through his command link programming, warping it, so he can talk only to his master. It's not a glitch, and can't be changed."

"And what surprised you..."

"Is filed under medical privacy."

Optimus looked worriedly at the scorpion drone trembling in his hand, then at Ratchet, still seated on the ground, not sure that if he tried to get up he'd remember he had two legs, not six. From the long familiarity with his commander and friend, Ratchet could tell what was going through his processor -- he saw a problem, a conflict between two people he was responsible for, he wasn't sure of the origin of and wasn't sure how to solve. He was going to try and get more information. "And if I ordered you to tell me?"

"I'd tell you, you need the authorization of a full hearing to override medical privacy to get the results of a processor scan the medic on sight considers non-relevant to any health problem or threat."

Ratchet smirked at the expression of utter disbelief on Prime's faceplate. Not without reason, though. A full hearing required that the officer making the request plead his case to two Autobot officers of equal or higher rank. Or, in the case of Prime, who had no equals or superiors in rank, four officers higher ranked than the medic in question. He watched Optimus run the names of every Autobot officer they didn't have a confirmed death notice of through his CPU, trying to figure out who he'd need to appeal to a hearing. As Ratchet was one of the highest seniority medics out there and was of officer rank himself -- Optimus would need unit commanders or their First Lieutenants. Jazz, had he still been alive, would have been one, but even if others were still alive, it could be centuries before they made it to Earth.

While his commander was busy, the medic took the time to do a quick run through his own processor and delete the loose bits of copied Scorponok code that had gotten lodged in there by the abrupt disconnect. Specifically he was looking for bits of Scorponok's motor and sensory functions. He, Ratchet, had no need or desire to know how to move on six legs, or fire a tail stinger, or what it was like to perceive through four optics not two. How Decepticon medics dealt with creature drones, he could never figure out. The slaggers didn't even build standardized creature drones.

When he was sure he had deleted it all, he got to his feet. Scorponok huddled in the big mech's hand, had stopped trembling and was staring at Ratchet with what could have been disbelief -- not that Ratchet considered himself a good interpreter of an insect's facial expressions. Optimus still looked shell-shocked. It was fragging funny. Unfortunately, Ratchet's sniggering snapped him out of it.

"My friend, that was cruel." Ratchet tipped his head to one side in question. "We don't even know if Ultra Magnus, Rodimus and Prowl are still alive, much less the Wreckers and the other teams."

The medic sighed again, and folded his arms across his chest the way he'd seen some humans (Sarah Lennox) do when they were trying to be stern. "I didn't mean to make you consider that, but I'm not changing my mind. If you want me to give you Scorponok's results, you're either going need a full hearing or convince me it's an emergency -- and right now, getting a hearing together is more likely."

Optimus still looked troubled.

Ratchet continued, trying to reassure him, "Prime, I know you want to mediate a conflict you think started here, but for once it'll be better if you don't know."

He didn't like that. Ratchet could tell he didn't like that. But he wasn't arguing anymore. He ran two fingers down the plating of Scorponok's back and then lowered him to his hip. He clasped there, somewhat tentatively to the medic's optics.

Then Optimus transformed into his Peterbilt form, with Scorponok somehow managing to end up sitting over the back set of wheels of the truck behind the cab.

"Primus, how long did you two fraggers practice that?" The question was mostly rhetorical and Ratchet didn't wait for an answer, transforming as well, before heading back a bit closer to the city.

fini

notes: i need to stop making scorponok's life miserable...

as you might have guessed, this is a follow up to "conversation 5" and only takes place a day or two after. Ratchet just wouldn't leave things as they were standing.

so..things to mention. A vorn is about 83 earth years. twenty-five vorns is about 2,075 years -- which puts that medical override code that worked ending up in autobot memory banks at coming from about the time that the insecticons were killed and scorponok chose blackout as his master. if anyone's interested in the irrelevent details -- the code was bombshell's, who in replacement'verse was the insecticon medic among his other functions. and the mention of ultra magnus, rodimus, and prowl eventhough i've mentioned before that they won't say names in english until the other chooses his english equivalent... a transformer is the narrator and there are no humans present -- the conversation's in cybertronian.

and lastly, i've been sick for a few days, so i'm sorry if there's anything that's hard to understand. i'm blaming the leftover fuzzyness in my brain... 


	12. Introductions

summary: new faces, new places--or maybe i lied about the new places.

disclaimer: nothing recognizable is mine--neither transformers, anything from stargate, nor any of the song lyrics used by bumblebee. song credits are at the end.

warnings: dunno...cussing probably, but if so not much of it.

note: probably my last post before i go back to school. dunno how often i'll write after that.

Replacement: Roads – Introductions

It was a place of learning, of research. The halls felt hushed in that unidentifiable way that libraries and museums did, though conversations were carried on by almost everyone. People moved and talked in the entry hall as they maneuvered around the marble pillars and each other. Entering, leaving or just going from one place in the building to another they all belonged there, like bees that all belonged in the same hushed hive. Except one.

No one consciously noticed when he entered the marble entry way. No one looked at him. None would remember him as anything but just another person moving from the entrance deeper into the building. None questioned him. But they all avoided him, gave him a wider berth than they did those who belonged there, didn't meet his eyes when they greeted him though he wasn't anything but friendly to those who did. In some unidentifiable way of body language and attitude, he didn't fit there.

Once he stopped someone and asked where a specific room was. It was a big building, full of hallways and rooms. But he remembered the directions given to him perfectly and didn't have to ask again. He slipped quietly into the lecture hall and might as well have ceased to exist as far as anyone noticed him. The focus of this room was on the lecturer in front, behind the podium, with none to spare for a single lurker who didn't move far from the door.

"...hieroglyphics. When is the academic community going to accept the fact that the pharaohs of the fourth dynasty did not build the Great Pyramids?" the lecturer was saying. "Look! Inside the pyramids, the most incredible structure ever erected, there are no writings, whatsoever.

A heckler toward the middle of the, admittedly small, audience questioned that, saying that writings had been discovered. The lecturer denounced the discovery as a fraud and turned to a briefcase, clearly intending to pull out something to support that claim, which is being denounced by the audience. Someone called out "Well, who do you think built the pyramids?"

For a moment the hall is absolutely silent, expectant, while the lecturer struggled. It was clear to that silent observer in the back that he had an opinion he clearly did not wish to say and so was grasping for something to say that may be received favorably.

Finally he settled on, "I don't have any idea who built them. That -- "

"Men from Atlantis."

"Or Martians perhaps."

Laughter was the general response to the interruptions. But subsided somewhat as the lecturer raised his voice slightly to be heard. "The point is not who built them. The point is when the were built." More heckling drowned out what was being said until he raised his voice again. "I think we need to reevaluate everything we've come to accept. I've been able to show..."

That was what the unknown, unobserved listener needed to hear and he slipped out as quietly as he'd entered. Not knowing that he was soon to be followed, first by the worst of the hecklers, then by the rest of the audience, leaving a somewhat bewildered lecturer behind in the hall.

The observer left the building with the same air of anonymous not fitting that he entered.

He made his way over to his truck, parked carefully away from any other vehicle in the lot and slipped into the driver's seat through the unlocked door.

"Well?" asked his companion.

"Pretty much perfect. Of course he's a civilian, but that'll probably be better for you guys anyway." Was the answer as the engine started and the truck pulled effortlessly out of the lot and onto the street.

The passenger seat of the GMC Topkick was empty.

888

It was raining in Portland when Daniel left another lecture hall, after another failed lecture, a week later. He paused and put his bags down in the slight shelter of the door way, trying to judge the distance to the next sheltered spot along the route he needed to take to the nearest bus stop.

Suddenly there was an umbrella sheltering him from the downpour. "Doctor Jackson, someone wants to speak with you."

Daniel looked over at the person in surprise and not a little confusion. He was dressed in the dark formals of some military branch. He wasn't an expert but... "What -- Air Force?" The man nodded a bit. "What's this?" The man offered no answer. "What is this?"

"Could you step over to the car?"

It wasn't an answer, but Daniel did notice the sedan for the first time -- black and unmarked with another man dressed in an Air Force uniform next to it. He bent over slowly to pick up his bags. "Sir." He wasn't completely sure this man rated a 'sir'. He wore a rank insignia, but Daniel wasn't familiar with it, and he was less likely to offend if he used the honorific unneeded than the other way around. "We going somewhere?"

"You're going to be fine." Again with the not answering. The man bent over, keeping the umbrella over their heads, and picked up one of the bags, then led the way over to the car. The other -- soldier? officer? -- opened the car door and took the other bag from him. "We'll take care of these," the first assured.

Daniel gave him a disgruntled look, but didn't argue, and got in the car.

He wasn't sure what to expect -- a military kidnapping perhaps, though what could the military, the Air Force, want with him? At least the car was heated, and dry.

The car's other occupant looked like a paper pusher, not a soldier, with a strait-cut mustache that he probably thought made him look more dignified. Maybe it did, but something about that mustache made Daniel feel a bit like he'd stepped into a comic book. He was reading a folder and didn't look up. Nervous, Daniel didn't speak either.

"Dr. Daniel Jackson?" Mustache man finally asked after a minute. Weirdly, Daniel felt like he'd passed some sort of test.

"Yes. What's this about?"

"A job." Brusque, to the point and not helpful at all. What was with these people and the not answering?

"What," he hesitated. He'd studied cultures and their subgroups, been accepted into Bedouin tribes and Egyptian households to study. He knew the rules there. But the military had always been closed to him. He didn't know the rules. And he was beginning to suspect this wasn't completely military. That he was being confronted by a secret projects group. He didn't know the rules, what was the best response, and had a feeling that it could get him in a lot of trouble. "What kind of a job?"

The man smiled slightly. Daniel couldn't tell wether it was impressed or condescending. Maybe it was both. "Anthropology. And eventually some some translation."

Spying in other words. "I'm going to go now." Hopefully the two goons outside would let him go.

"Go where?" This time the tone was unmistakably condescending, and amused, "You've just been evicted from your apartment. Your grants have run out. Everything you own is in those two bags."

The man was right. Daniel had nothing left and nowhere to go. He still wanted to get out of the car, leave Portland, and never see this man again, but after that reminder, he wasn't so sure he could afford to. He watched the other reopen the folder and pull out two sheets of paper. They were handed over.

The heading said "Horizon Air". They were an itinerary and confirmation number. Travel plans, to "Ontario?"

"It's less crowded than LA." Not an answer. "You don't need to decide until the plane leaves, in two days. If you don't come, you'll never see us again. If you do, you'll be met in Ontario and things'll get explained, but you won't be able to back out." He tapped on the back windshield of the sedan and one of the goons opened the car door.

As he got out, Daniel was handed his bags and the umbrella. A minute later, the car and its passengers, but not the questions it'd brought, were gone.

888

Less crowded than LA did not mean empty. Apparently Ontario was the place to go if you wanted to go to Los Angeles but didn't want to deal with the crowds at LAX. Daniel wondered, as he entered the gate area, whether his escort was expecting to meet him here or in the baggage claim. He hadn't checked any bags, but didn't think there was any way for the person he was meeting to know that. He looked around.

There was a sign, with his name on it, but Daniel didn't immediately see a person. Why became apparent as he got closer. The teen was seated on the floor, listening to a small music player and flipping through a textbook, with his picket style sign propped up against the wall next to him.

"Hello?"

The teen looked up and grinned, a quick easy grin, and scrambled to his feet with that awkward teenage grace. "Dr. Jackson?"

"Yes." What was a teenager doing meeting him here? Daniel had been expecting the military. Or at least someone older. Granted people could look a lot younger than they were, but that had been a high school textbook. How was a high schooler mixed up in a secret military group?

"No offense...they told me to check." Still puzzled, Daniel silently dug out and handed over his driver's license. "Cool. We picking up any bags?"

"No."

"Double cool. That's always the part I hate most about flying. Parking lot's this way." The teen slung his backpack over his shoulder, book stowed, and casually took one of Daniel's bags. "I'm Sam by the way. Sam Witwicky."

"Daniel." He answered automatically. Of course the teen, Sam, knew his name, but if he was remembering one study correctly, answering would imply permission to call him by his given name and encourage him to talk. Maybe he'd explain.

Sam talked, but didn't explain. Mostly he asked questions. He seemed really interested in anthropology, but the feeling wasn't right for someone who was interested in that field. Finally Daniel had to ask directly. "I'm sorry, but I wasn't expecting..."

"A high school geek?"

Well, he wouldn't have put it that way.

"'Sokay. I would've been surprised if Agent Banachek had told you 'bout me."

"Agent Banachek?"

Sam stopped and turned to give Daniel a surprised look. "Jeez -- the SOB didn't even introduce himself." He turned to continue walking, weaving around parked cars. "Bastard takes this government cloak and dagger stuff waay too seriously. Though, I'spose it coulda been worse."

"Worse?" He hated being reduced to a parrot, but the boy was enjoying this, and waiting for the prompts.

"Simmons probably woulda scared you off."

Not answering. But this at least was simply the smug attitude of a teenager who knew something an adult didn't, and wanted to be smug for as long as he was allowed. Normal. And it definitely didn't unnerve him the way the military -- Banachek's attitude had. Sam may not be answering the questions, but this time Daniel knew the rules, and didn't think a misstep would get him locked up. Which, he mused, may have been the point to sending Sam to meet him.

A yellow car nearby beeped cheerfully. Sam made his way over and put Daniel's bag and his backpack in the back seat, motioning for his guest to do the same.

"Is this your car?" It was a really nice car. Daniel did not know cars, but this was new. Newer than new. And the yellow paint was pristine.

"Usually not, but it really depends on who you ask." He slid into the driver's seat and waited for Daniel to take the passenger seat. The engine started. Daniel guessed this must be one of the new button ignition cars -- it was new enough, and he didn't see a key.

For all that he didn't seem to be paying much attention, Sam was a very good driver, and knew exactly where he was going. "You're lucky your flight was on a Saturday -- else 'Bee and I wouldn't have been able to meet you. You woulda been met by one of the military boys. And that wouldn't have been nearly as fun."

There were two loose threads in that statement and for a moment Daniel considered which Sam wanted to him ask about. Teenagers did that, and asking about the correct one would foster respect and he'd be more willing to explain.

"Bee?"

Sam grinned and he figured that was the right one. "Bumblebee." He ran his hand over the dashboard like he was stroking the fur of a beloved pet. "'Bee, this is Dr. Daniel Jackson."

Okay...he knew that naming their cars, even personifying them, wasn't unusual in the younger generation, but a formal introduction was a bit much.

_"Here I am -- This is me."_ The radio crooned out unexpectedly.

Sam's hand slapped against the radio controls so fast, the motion was almost panicked. "Sorry. Great car, but the radio's glitched."

_"What's it feel like to be a ghost?"_ Sam growled and muttered something uncomplimentary Daniel didn't catch. _"Everybody knows -- Ya can't say that on the radio"_ The radio seemed to answer. San continued to mutter and cuss at the car, fiddling with the radio. Finally he gave up.

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten it fixed." Surely anyone who could afford this brand new car, that just had to be worth more that some of Daniel's grants, could afford to get the radio fixed.

Sam looked a bit nervous. "Yeah ... well, the problem is that it was broken when I got it, but it's fixed now. Now 'Bee's just being a bitch." His hand petted the dashboard again, fondly. Daniel got the impression that the car's radio problem didn't actually bother Sam, but the teen was upset that it had acted up in front of Daniel. "And his timing sucks. I can't figure him out sometimes."

_"All I need is prayer and a song."_

"You sure act like it sometimes 'Bee."

Daniel was starting to see why Sam personified his car so much. If the radio always had that uncanny way of seeming to carry on a conversation, it would very easy for 'Bumblebee' to become a person in a teen's eyes. He looked at Sam again. Especially a teen who'd described himself as a geek -- in high school where being a geek wasn't a good social label -- and so probably didn't have many friends.

The car settled on a soft instrumental jazz station, which got it an annoyed huff from its driver, but he made no attempt to change it.

"So you wanna know about the military guys?"

The question was an attempt to distract him, but Daniel really did want to know about how this all fit in with the military, so he allowed it and nodded.

"Most of 'em are pretty cool -- they won't hassle you at all. Will -- Captain Lennox is actually the one who tagged you for this. I don't know if he'll be at the meeting though."

Interpersonal information rather than explanation. Still, Daniel was an anthropologist and that little bit told him a lot about this, ah..."project". The military "guys" went out of their way to be respectful to the kid. In return Sam liked and respected them and this "Captain Lennox" in return, but if he was allowed to call him by his given name, the kid was no where in the "Captain's" chain of command. And if he was going to be at a meeting that he wasn't sure Lennox would be at, he was probably more deeply involved with it than the captain.

"Agent Banachek and Simmons?" He asked about the other two names Sam had dropped.

"Agent Simmons -- at least until the first time he pisses you off enough to call him 'Ferret-face', then he's just 'Simmons'. And no, they won't be at the meeting either." Sam grinned a bit wider. "They're government gofers and generally kept on fairly short leashes."

Sam didn't like Agent Simmons at all. Someone had introduced the kid to old TV shows, which probably meant he was closer friends to the older military guys than he was with kids his own age. And if that insult was at all true the the TV character it had first been used on, Agent Simmons was a jackass, a rule monger and almost universally disliked. The distinction made between himself and the "government" implied that Sam thought the government didn't actually have much to do with the project, re-enforced by the comment that the agents were kept on "leashes". Daniel wondered who was holding those leashes.

"Agent Banachek gave me a couple of files I'm supposed to give you, and a script. If you wanna start looking at them now, they're in my bag." He waved a hand indicating behind him. Daniel twisted around to grab the backpack from behind the driver's seat. Inside were battered school books, a shiny new-looking silver laptop, and more folders and papers than he wanted to sort through. "Red folder first. And you're going to need a pen, front pocket."

Daniel pulled out the red folder, and a pen, before placing the bag at his own feet. The folder contained, "A non-disclosure form?"

"Yeah, they want you to sign away you're soul. But before you get all huffed, you might wanna take a look at the one behind it."

That one was a job description. "Anthropology and Linguistics." Apparently he was to study and make reports on a (unspecified) foreign culture in an effort to ensure relations between the members of this culture, described as refugees sheltering in the US but retaining their right to govern themselves, and the US government and, if a specific (again unspecified) situation occurred, other governments, remain open, honest and free of misunderstanding. There was also a salary, and a notation that living expenses, up to a certain amount, and all travel expenses, regardless of amount, would be paid outside his salary.

"Mind boggling, isn't it?"

"Generous certainly. But...I'm not a spy. I don't do, what did you call it before, 'government cloak and dagger stuff'."

"Well...yeah." The kid looked he didn't quite understand how 'Anthropology and Linguistics' might translate to 'espionage'. "Government cloak and dagger stuff is Simmons and Banachek's job. And once you sign the contract, they can't touch you."

"Contract?"

"Comes after the explanation, which comes after the non-disclosure form. Will and Simmons actually agreed on that, and when those two agree on something...and y'might want to read it pretty carefully -- I'm told the last paragraph isn't standard."

Daniel flipped back to the form. Apparently he wasn't liable for any exposure that he wasn't directly responsible for. And that if he was the leak but it was an emergency, there wouldn't be any penalty. With a resigned sigh -- there was nothing to go back to, he might as well see where going forward took him -- he signed.

_"It definitely looks like we got the front door, good buddy. Mercy sakes alive -- it looks like we got us a convoy"_ the defective radio butted in.

"Huh?" Sam looked up into the rearview mirror. "Looks like you're right 'Bee. What'cha think we should do about it?"

Daniel looked out the side mirror mirror to see what had caught Sam's attention. A big cargo truck, minus trailer, painted in red and blue flames.

_"If you come on with me, you need nerves of steel -- 'Cause I take corners on two wheels."_

"Cool." Sam dropped back and to the side, so his front end was even with the truck's bumper. From this angle, the thing was monstrous. Sam revved Bumblebee's engine twice.

"Wait! You're not actually thinking -- "

The truck revved back and the two vehicles shot forward on the empty road, heading to the desert. The little yellow sports car accelerated in front of the truck with what Daniel considered mind boggling speed, but when he worked himself up to looking back, he saw that while Bumblebee's acceleration had been whip-fast, the two vehicles seemed to have similar top speeds and the truck was catching up.

Daniel had to admit that the kid handled his car in a way that would have made a Formula 1 racer jealous. He did a fairly good job of blocking the truck. At least until the truck blared its horn and Sam had to pull out of the road or be run over.

_"Never gonna give it, never gonna give it up -- You can't take me!"_ the radio shrieked and Sam growled as dust from the shoulder flew around the car. He pulled back on the road and floored it. Apparently they hadn't been going Bumblebee's top speed before, because they caught up almost before Daniel could blink.

Sam slid Bumblebee neatly around the truck despite its attempt to block him. _"Get off of my back -- and into my game._ _Get out of my way!"_ Bumblebee crowed, probably loud enough that the truck's driver could hear it. And they shot forward again, leaving the red and blue truck behind.

"Think he's done for 'Bee?"

_"Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats."_ Sam laughed.

They slowed as they turned off, to "Tranquility" according to the exit sign. Then turned again, headed to someplace just outside of the town. Daniel managed to pry his hands away from where they gripped the bottom of his seat.

"Are you insane?" He couldn't help it.

Sam laughed again. "No way, no how, is Prime in 'Bee's speed class."

He knew the truck's driver. Daniel figured this wasn't the first time they'd done that.

They pulled off again, this time onto an open space with a single tenacious oak tree, and rolled to a stop. Both doors popped open. Daniel sneezed. Then sneezed again.

"Sick?"

"No, just allergies."

The view was breathtaking. They were on top of a steep hill, or short cliff, overlooking a medium sized town, presumably Tranquility. There wasn't any one else there. Sam dug the laptop and a CD out of his bag and perched on Bumblebee's hood.

"C'm'ere...we have a few minutes before Prime catches up to us and I wanna get through Agent Banachek's script before he and whoever he has with him gets here."

Daniel came. He started to copy Sam and sit on the car, but for some reason that made him feel uncomfortable and so he settled for standing close enough to see the computer's screen.

It showed an landscape of red rock. "This was recorded on Mars by the Beagle 2 Mars rover." For a second the camera simply scanned across red rock, then something moved, and the camera refocused higher. For one single second a shape that looked somehow humanoid and metallic blocked out and was distorted by the sun behind it. There was a blur of movement and the video went to static.

"Whoa." That wasn't human. That video was taken on Mars. "Can I see that again?"

"Better." He handed over a picture from a green folder out of his backpack. It was a screen shot, the clearest frame from the video.

"That's not human -- it looks mechanical. What -- Who?"

"Dunno its name. It didn't introduce itself as you saw. By the time anyone saw it again, it looked different."

"What...?"

"What's this gotta do with me?" Sam was still quick and easy with his grin, relaxed. Despite the seriousness and strangeness of the subject, he felt safe. "Well take that one step at a time. Gotta second picture for you."

This one looked almost identical to the Mars picture, a mechanical humanoid shape backlit by the sun. "That one is from the attack on a SOCCENT base in Qatar last June."

"Aliens?" Sam nodded. "Attacked? So, not friendly."

"That's where it starts to get complicated. Those two, Decepticons, are definitely not friendly, but -- "

_"We are forty against hundreds, in someone else's bloody war -- we know not why we're fighting, or what we're dying for."_

"Yeah. The aliens are kinda in the middle of a war, and the other side happens to like us a lot."

Aliens. Alien war. Too much. "No. I don't believe you. This isn't possible. I'm leaving." Daniel turned to the road, intent on following it...away. Away from Sam, his talk of aliens. "Martians perhaps?" The mocking question rang in his memory, ridiculing him.

"Okay. How?"

That stopped him. He turned back. Arms folded to rest on the roof of the car, still kneeling on the hood, he made no move to hinder Daniel's leaving, but also no move to aid him. Clearly, if Daniel wanted to leave, go back to the university, try and salvage his reputation, he was doing it by himself. The kid wouldn't even give him a ride to the bus stop.

And then Daniel felt even sillier -- his bags were still in the back seat of the yellow car.

"Look. Daniel. I know this is scary, and unbelievable, and just plain freaky. Allspark knows I was pretty fucking freaked when I found out. But it's also the coolest, the best thing that ever happened to me too. Do you wanna know why Will tagged you for this?"

"I assume because I'd just ruined my life so I'd be more willing to come and listen to this...this nonesense."

Sam's head thunked on the roof of the car as he collapsed laughing. "No," he managed to choke out. "That's why Simmons and Banachek didn't argue too much about it." He took a deep breath and looked up, meeting Daniel's eyes. "Will," the name was deliberately emphasized, "tagged you, because of something you said when he attended one of your lectures. You said that you thought we needed to reevaluate everything we've come to accept."

"I was referring to the pyramids."

"Yeah, yeah. But saying it got you all but kicked out of your fields. And we need someone with an open mind. Look. I've got proof. Prime'll be here in a tick, and if you still want to leave when we're done, I'll at least drive you to the bus stop."

Daniel nodded.

A huge horn blared behind him, and he turned to watch the red and blue truck making it's way up onto the lookout. He didn't acknowledge Sam's "Always has to have perfect timing, doesn't he? Showoff."

Something bothered him about that truck. It was the same nagging feeling that had made him reluctant to sit on Bumblebe -- Sam's car. Only more so. He backed away from it. Only to find himself stopped by Sam's hands on his shoulder. "Cool it. We're fine."

The truck pulled to a stop and the driver's door popped open. A black soldier in a T-shirt and camouflage cargo pants jumped from the seat. "Yo! Witwicky! How's it going?"

"Hey, Epps. We managed to get through the preliminaries and freak out number one. Just waiting for you to get here so you can grab him when he tries to run during freak out number two."

Laughing, Epps made his way over to them. "You're Dr. Jackson. Captain was impressed. I'm tech-Sgt. Robert Epps. Just Epps, please. My parents are the only ones who called me Robert, every time I hear it, I get flashbacks to the time I was the dweeb's age." And he reached over to ruffle Sam's hair.

"Hey!"

"Call me Daniel please."

"Nope. Not happening -- this works and you'll rank me, so you better be Dr. Jackson. So you wanna meet an alien?" He led the way over around the truck until they could see what was crouched on the bed behind the cab.

A giant...metal...undeniably alien scorpion. Daniel panicked.

Only to be caught and held by Sgt. Epps. "C'mon. C'mon. Jeez, will you stop kicking and calm down. Jesus Christ, if anyone's allowed to have problems with the bug it's me. Will you stop it. Look -- it's like Captain Lennox said, if he's not trying to kill you, he a very nice bug."

"Let me go!"

"Somehow, I don't think that's working Epps."

"Shut up, dweeb. I don't see you helping."

"Oh...I'll help."

The shock of cold water chased away the panic and halted the struggles. Daniel looked at Sam and Sgt. Epps, as though seeing them for the first time. Sam had an empty cold thermos in one hand.

"Nice, kid. You got me all wet."

"It worked didn't it?"

It had. Now instead of panicked, Daniel felt tired and a little drained, trying to remember why he'd been panicked a moment before. His eyes widened in memory. He turned to the...the...the thing on the truck bed again. "Eep!"

Epps chuckled a bit. "Okay. You ready for a real introduction?"

Daniel nodded, still not trusting his voice. The scorpion crawled down from the bed and came closer.

"Dr. Jackson. This is Scorponok. Scorponok, Dr. Daniel Jackson."

The scorpion, Scorponok, made a krr-click? noise.

Without recalling any intention to move, Daniel found himself moving closer to Scorponok. The way the machine was put together was fascinating, complex. And the way it -- he? she? -- moved and reacted to him, there was no doubt in his mind that this creature was alive. In a trance, Daniel laid one hand on a smooth panel of armor? skin? and moved along the metal, trying to convince himself this was real, not a dream. Scorponok let out a mid-pitch, but almost sub-sonic purr-ing sound.

"Hey, dweeb, you ever hear the bug make that noise before?"

Daniel looked at Sam in time to see him shake his head.

"I have."

Daniel yelped and leapt back, away from the truck which had been the source of that deeper, bigger than human voice.

"He made that noise the first time he made himself comfortable in my cab."

Suspicion exploded in his mind. He looked at Scorponok. Compared him to the memory of pictures of backlit shadows. "Scorponok's not like the ones in the pictures."

Sam and Epps smiled a bit conspiratorially at each other and moved to either side so Daniel's view of Sam's -- Bumblebee was unobstructed. "You wanted to know how I got involved in this." Sam's smile widened. "I bought a car."

At first the changes were so small he noticed only a clicking. Then the yellow sports car almost exploded into moving, whirring, shifting parts, until finally, it stood up, twenty feet tall, a vaguely human shaped robot.

Sam sidled up next to the awestruck Daniel Jackson. "I've already introduced you to 'Bee, but allow me to properly introduce him to you. Dr. Jackson, this is Bumblebee -- an Autobot."

_"I hear a secret in the rain. It's like the kiss of a lover. It's like a stranger knows your name."_

Daniel looked at the yellow robot in front of him, then to the mechanical scorpion behind him, then to the truck next to him that had spoken. "Anthropology, huh?"

"Yeah. Cool, huh?"

This could be his life. Or he could walk away. But if he did that then he'd forfeit this chance to do...something amazing. Something...beyond human. He'd seen the possibility of aliens when looking at the Great Pyramids, and now he could study them in life -- though just by looking at Bumblebee he doubted these had anything to do with the pyramids. And sure, right now it was a secret...but the loopholes in the non-disclosure agreement suggested that it might not be secret forever.

This could be his life.

"Where's the contract you mentioned, Sam?"

fini

notes: wow--that's my longest single piece yet. over 5,000 words of just story. which beats "figment" (my previous longest single chapter/story record holder) by almost a thousand words.

okay...those of you going "oh, no! not a crossover..." and those going "yay! a crossover!" stop it now. if you're not familiar with stargate and don't know who daniel jackson is--skip the next paragraph, it'll only confuse you.

i'm stealing a character, not crossing over. the stargate timeline is seriously messed up cause here, daniel's lecture takes place almost seven months after the transformers movie--jan 2008--rather than the nineteen-nintey-whatever it was originally. if you want to know how i'm considering the rest of the stargate stuff...sure the stargate system exists, the goa'uld did build the great pyramids, the rebellion against them happened, and the earth stargate was buried. the time which the humans on earth rebelled against the goa'uld 5,000 years ago co-incides with the the time the autobot/decepticon war was starting to be fought outside their home system -- ie when the allspark was lost. however, the stargate was never rediscovered, the goa'uld did not endear themselves to the autobots and they, their jaffa and the attending slave populations were wiped out, either deliberately by the decepticons or as collateral damage to the autobot/decepticon war--'cause i have a tendency to think of them as putzes in comparison to the transformers. the autobots don't tell the human governments about the stargate system because they have no reason to expect that there's one (much less two) on earth until the one is discovered by the humans. and without being sought out by the col o'neill, the aasgard stayed in their own galaxy and will probably be wiped out by the replicators soon, and the ascended ancients just kept their non-interfearence policy. colonel o'neill probably commits suicide like he was clearly contemplating when he got drafted to the stargate program. sure, maybe at some point a stargate will be discovered or the replicators might make their way to earth, but not during the scope of what i'm writing. and thus dr. jackson is available for me to steal. nyah.

hmm...i don't think the stargate movie ever specified what city daniel started from. i picked portland kinda randomly as a place where it's almost guaranteed to be raining in january. besides--horizon air has direct flights from portland to ontario, which was important.

the first two scenes and a lot of the dialogue in them, come from daniel's introductory scenes in the stargate movie. i watched those scenes something like five or six times to make sure i got them, and blended into their new universe, right.

i read somewhere that tranquility was supposedly somewhere in california, and even if it's not really...i'm sorry, but that just looked like the dry grassland and oak scrub you find in the borderline deserts south of the silicon valley.

the insult "ferret-face" sam uses for simmons comes from the old tv show mash, and is used often by the main character (hawkeye pierce) for one of the other medics (major burns). the very first time i saw "transformers" in theaters, i couldn't help but compare the two characters.

and when sam say said "allspark knows..." i dunno, it just fit for him.

song credits, in order of use:

"Here I Am" Bryan Adams, from the _Spirit: Stallion of the Cimerron_ movie soundtrack

"What's It Feel Like to Be a Ghost?" Taking Back Sunday, from the _Transformers_ movie soundtrack

"Can't Say That On The Radio" Trick Pony

"State of Mind" Clint Black

"Convoy" CW McCall

"Mi Vida Loca" Pam Tillis

"You Can't Take Me" Bryan Adams, _Spirit_ soundtrack

"Get Off of My Back" Bryan Adams, _Spirit_ soundtrack

"Before He Cheats" Carrie Underwood

"Ireland" Garth Brooks

"The River's Gonna Run" Buddy and Julie Miller


	13. Anthropologist's Report 1

summary: paperwork...

disclaimer: don't own

warnings: none

Anthropologist's Report # 1 -- On Autobots and Anthropologists

As you requested in your letter, I am first addressing the issue were concerned about when I was "hired". You were right. The closest profession to anthropology among the... um, subject culture is that of a spy -- the one named Bumblebee and the the deceased Jazz in this specific group. The need to blend into their enemies' -- the Decepticon's -- culture makes each spy into an anthropologist of sorts. Though those missions were assigned to the other, Jazz, more often than Bumblebee, it remains true. The mindset of studying a different culture was useful when they left their home...planet and started interacting with cultures other than their own and their enemies'. Frankly the spies were better at it, so studying those cultures and figuring out how to blend in became part of a spy's duties. Then when they started interacting with those culture and not just hiding within them, they were the logical choice for ambassadors because they knew what would and wouldn't offend. So information gathering, sabotage, assassination, anthropology and ambassadorial duties all fall under the umbrella of 'covert ops'.

That said -- Offense isn't taken for several reasons. One is that they have allied themselves to humans and it's natural to them that a spy takes an ambassadorial position. Another is that they know that among humans the jobs of spy, anthropologist, and ambassador are all different. They are trying very hard to adapt themselves to our culture and know that's their way is not ours. Even so, there are times that they clearly view me as a spy. It makes them cautious about what they say to me and watch me constantly -- after all, just because I'm an anthropologist doesn't mean I'm not part of covert ops, which leads erringly (and they know it's an error, even if they can't always stop themselves from thinking it) to the idea that I'm as much an information gatherer, a saboteur and assassin as I am an anthropologist.

fini

note: this report is submitted about two weeks after dr. jackson is hired. 


	14. Anthropologist's Report 2

summary: more paperwork...an anthropologist needs to earn his keep after all.

disclaimer: i don't own transformers or anything associated with them. i don't own daniel jackson either, though this doesn't mention his name.

warnings: none

note: i thought i would be kinda neat to see how daniel's affecting things even when he's a pretty minor character most of the time. so i've added a memo from keller to the end of this. such little epilogues are probably going to start appearing on the end of whichever anthropologist's reports i feel deserve them.

Anthropologist's Report 2 -- On the Nature of the Family Units of Sentient Machines From Space

You're not going to be able to keep this a secret from the families of those involved for much longer, assuming of course that secrecy hasn't already been compromised. Further, trying to keep them secret, forbidding them from telling the families of "their" humans will very likely anger them. The reason is:

Family

Their concept of family is one of those things that don't translate into human languages well. The reason for this is that, quite simply, no transformer is in any way biologically related to another. Families are chosen and defined by the depth of friendships.

They do have "creators", which could in the loosest definition of the term be considered a biological parent. But from what i've been able to discuss, a transformer's creator generally has very little to do with his creation once a spark has been put into the body and accepted the programming. Most of the Autobots have long since deleted the name of their creator from their memory banks--the one exception being Optimus Prime, though he admits that, as he's gone through at least one complete reformatting, he isn't sure whether the name he remembers is the name of his original creator or that of the Transformer primarily responsible for his reformat.

Somehow there is also the possibility of "Brothers created" but how that works, they are unable to explain. They say that if a set of brothers ever make it to earth, it will be obvious what they mean by that, but since none of them have been created as or with brothers, they can't really tell me more than such brothers are linked by their sparks (as a human might put it, on the level of their souls).

Instead, the originally militarily organized group consisting of Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Ironhide, Bumblebee and Jazz became a family unit through deep friendships built over thousands of years. If another full group makes it to earth, most likely that group will be another separate, full family. Jazz's death hit them a lot harder than they let on. All of them are still in mourning and will likely to continue to be for a very long time, as humans consider time.

How Scorponok fits and will fit into their family unit is unclear even to them. Everything about his situation is unusual and unknown to them. We're all figuring it out as it happens.

Back humans and their families though. Sam Witwicky, Mikaela Banes, Captain Lennox, and, to a lesser extent myself and rest of Lennox's team are being adopted into the Autobots' family unit. Such "adoptions" have nothing to do with age, since Transformers don't regard physical age as any having sort of importance. (That's a concept too complicated to go into at the moment. I don't understand it myself yet. For now, sufficed to say, a Transformer can be considered a child, a "sparkling" for just a few human weeks or centuries as they count them.) But when a person is adopted into a unit, the unit expects to adopt the adoptee's entire previous unit.

That means that in adopting their new human family members, the Autobots will also be expecting to add anyone they see as having similar emotional bonds to their new family members to the whole unit.

This probably doesn't mean much for the families and friends of myself, Mikaela, and the rest of Lennox's team. The men and I are all single, don't have many friends outside of the group already in the know, and no observable contact with our "creators". Mikaela has a deep emotional bond with her father, but no contact with him, and seems to resent and dislike her current caretaker. To the Autobots, this means adopting all of us is is "accepting a wanderer into a group".

Will Lennox and Sam Witwicky, on the other hand, have families already. Lennox--his wife and child. Sam--his parents, and his closest human friend, Miles Lancaster. The Autobots are not going to want to sever those bonds, which, among their species, accepting a member of another family unit without accepting that member's entire existing unit does sever the existing bonds. Quite painfully in most cases. This is further complicated by Sam and Lennox being the ones most completely accepted--Sam is even being considered a "brother found" to Bumblebee.

So the Autobots want to add "their" humans' families to their family, and I'm not sure that there's anything that could stop them from doing so. Which means, the Autobots as a "government secret" isn't going to last long as far as those close to them are concerned.

end report

Memo from Secretary Keller to Captain Lennox and Samuel Witwicky:

The following people have been cleared to know about and interact with the Autobots in non military situations. The existence of the Autobots is to be revealed to these people only at the insistence of the Autobots themselves.

Mrs. Sarah Lennox

Miss Annabelle Lennox

Mr. Ronald Witwicky

Mrs. Judith Witwicky

Mr. Miles Lancaster

Will Lennox's response: "Umm...that's good. I'd kinda been avoiding telling anyone that Ironhide told Sarah and Anna about himself months ago."

Sam Witwicky's response: "Okay. Cool. Mom's gonna freak though."

fini

notes: report is submitted three weeks after the previous one. after "secrets"

okay so i lied about that bit about the last update. i couldn't help it. and in my defense, the anthropologists reports are almost all the way written written--it just takes me about ten or twenty minutes to rewrite the information into report form.

also...when the autobots are trying and failing to explain 'brothers created' to daniel, they're referring to twins like sideswipe and sunstreaker, and gestalts, like the aerialbots. 


	15. Currents

summary: replacement prequel. an autobot does a bit of sneaking around, but even the most observant mech can miss a few things...

disclaimer: writing some variation of "don't own. don't sue" every chapter is getting really boring, y'know.

warnings: minimal transformer cussing and a couple of non-graphic transformer deaths

Replacement: Roads -- Currents

Jazz waited in the shadows of a sensor blind spot. This route was patrolled and he couldn't risk moving until they passed him. He'd prefer not being here to risk being spotted, but he didn't have enough time. Best to wait, no matter how much he didn't like the risk.

Primus and luck were with him though, as the two patrolling 'Cons didn't notice the extra dark form huddled against the wall of the base.

As soon as he was sure they were out of sight, Jazz moved to the drone entry door half buried against the ground. It was simplicity itself to override the small door. These entrances to their bases were one of the th'Cons' more arrogant mistakes -- special hidden entrances for their drones to use to get into the maintenance crawl ways. Granted Decepticon drones were enforced loyal, but they forgot that the Autobots could build small mechs as well.

Of course, Jazz thought to himself, just because a 'Bot could get in through the entrance as easy as a drone could, didn't mean that actually doing so was any safer than going in through the front door.

This was actually the most dangerous part of this infiltration. He needed to find an unwatched hatch into the main hallways and fast. Now that he was in, there was a chance to bluff if he was seen by a mech. Or kill the mech. But if he was caught in the crawl ways by a drone...he'd be in deep slag that was for sure.

More often than he would have liked, Jazz had to freeze to listen to the distant skittering sounds of a drone moving around in the crawl way. Twice he had to change directions to avoid the drone. If that happened too many more times, Jazz wasn't going to be sure where in the base he was.

Finally, though, he found a maintenance hatch in a storage room that didn't have any mechs nearby, and if he was reading the angles on the camera right...now. He scrambled out of the crawl way, made sure it was closed behind him, crouched on the floor for exactly four and half ticks, then, during the seven ticks the camera's blind spot extended down half the room, he rushed to a better hiding spot behind a crate.

Then during that camera's next pass, he moved to the door. It was simpler to override the door to the storage room than it was to open the door outside. He slipped into the hallway.

He never noticed the creature that had been recharging in the storage room when he made his way through.

888

He still stuck to the shadows and sensor blind spots as he made his way through the base. Most of the 'Cons were in their recharge cycles. Those that weren't were more than a little overcharged. There had only been one that had been sober enough to recognize that he didn't belong, but he'd been drunk enough that he'd also been easily dealt with. The other 'Cons probably wouldn't go looking for the yellow seeker until he failed to show up to whatever his next duty shift was.

Something was giving him the shivers though. Jazz didn't think it was the overcharged Decepticons wandering erratically around. Infiltrating after a 'Con victory and crashing the party wasn't uncommon. It was usually when the slaggers were paying the least attention. No it was something else.

He knew he'd kept himself from being caught on camera. Sensors inside the base weren't adjusted to point out a mech as unusual -- a mech was a mech as far a sensors were concerned. The best use for them was to tell when someone had gotten where no one should be. In the corridors during a party didn't count. Primus, he'd even made sure that he wasn't seen from the maintenance hatchways, in case a drone was in there.

Most who knew him would be surprised at it, but Jazz was not a 'bot who believed in the mystical. Signs and stars and portents had nothing to do with the success or failure of a mission. He'd never admit it to Prowl of course, but a mission was as much about logic as intuition. And beneath it, Jazz was a logical 'bot. And that was why the creepy feeling was bugging him -- there was no reason. Not even that the mission was going too well, 'cause it wasn't.

Deftly he disabled the one camera he couldn't avoid and slipped into the head seeker's private suite. The door shut automatically behind him.

And promptly froze. Energon nearly freezing in his pipes.

The base commander had a drone. Why hadn't that been in the intel reports?

The thing was formidable looking -- relatively small and fast, some sort of thin arthropod with big wings, probably fit a seeker's aesthetics perfect-like. Recharging on the berth.

Jazz debated what to do for a tick. If he killed the drone, its master would know fast as an optic reset. If the drone woke up, he'd be found out just as fast. If he just left, th'Bots wouldn't get a better crack at killing the base commander, perfect coward of a 'Con that he was.

The drone's wings fluttered a bit, hopefully not in response to Jazz's presence.

Loud, over-energized voices outside the door to the suite decided him. Silently as a shadow, he moved deeper in the room, into the shadow of the Decepticon's desk, where he'd have a moment before he was noticed.

The door keyed open. "Lights, thirty percent." The green seeker's voice was slightly slurred from high grade, but he wasn't falling down. Red optics flicked around the room and brightened with anger where they settled.

"You," he growled out threatening, "off the plate." Suiting actions to words th'Con stalked over and roughly pushed the drone off the recharge berth with one foot. The drone landed on its back, facing Jazz.

A split tick of panic passed before he noticed the critter hadn't bothered turning its optics on, just curled up on the floor and went back into recharge.

This was why Jazz was the infiltrator, not Prowl. He didn't question the logic behind the gift of luck, just, when the seeker's back was turned, grabbed the mech with a magnetic field and sliced the 'Con's main energon lines with the medical scalpel he'd brought for the purpose. The dark green mech died without a sound.

Jazz spun to deliver the same fate to the drone, only to find it gone. "Frag." It was the first thing he'd said since the start of the mission. Nothing to do for it anyway. He spun and exited the suite, being sure the door was locked behind him.

He had one more thing he had to try and do before he could leave.

He didn't see the drone come out of the crawl way and smugly curl up on the body of its former master, which lay on top of the recharge plate, in a morbid semblance of affection, and go back into recharge, fluttering its wings in some sardonic comment known only to itself

888

Turnover at the Decepticon base awoke mechs who did not want to wake from the scarce bit of recharge they'd managed after the party. They woke to the unpleasantness of hangovers, a dead commander, and a virus eating its way through their computers. The virus was kinda nifty, reprograming every console to do nothing but play simple games making them useless, among other things like ruin all the data in the system and chew the firewalls to shreds. The 'bot responsible had even been kind enough to put his name on each of the games' high scores list: Autobot Jazz.

fini

note: takes place before any of the 'bots or 'cons have left cybertron. and the winged drone jazz encountered is not scorponok -- i was imagining something like what a dragonfly might look like if someone built one without knowing what a dragonfly looked like. so i like insects, nothing wrong with that.

that's not to say scorponok isn't around...and on that note, i'd like to say that i will no longer be giving out brownies for guesses for story five "steps".

as for the games jazz is kind enough to leave so the decepticons can entertain themselves -- in my mind they were things like pac man and other similar things. 


	16. Complications

summary: accepting a decepticon defector into your ranks is complicated -- no one quite realized how complicated until the first autobot answers optimus prime's call to make earth their new home.

disclaimer: do i have to? why can't i just use the ones from the previous chapters?

warnings: transformer cussing due to the presence and main-characterness of our two favorite forty foot tall potty mouthes

note: takes place directly after "directions" -- only about an hour between the two

Replacement: Roads -- Complications

Ratchet, Bumblebee and several humans were already there when Ironhide got to the coordinates. Ratchet watched Ironhide pull up and drop his tailgate. Scorponok imediately jumped to the ground. He crouched close to the ground exactly were he landed without a sound. Ratchet frowned. That wasn't right.

Ironhide didn't say anything as Captain Lennox slid out of the driver's seat. But that was alright. Ironhide rarely said anything to anyone other than Lennox while he was in alt form. Bumblebee greeted the human but ignored Ironhide for the moment.

When Lennox was clear, the Topkick began an unhurried transformation -- carefully stretching pistons and cables that were unused during weeks spent in alt.

Ratchet's focus was on Scorponok. The drone's listlessness was for once something more worrying than Ironhide's lack of time spent in primary form. He picked him up by the tail.

His worry only grew when Scorponok notably didn't scratch at the ground in order to resist being picked up. Then didn't bite Ratchet's hand -- just hung there a bit limply. Ratchet shifted, making a sound like a small avalanche.

"What did you do to him?" He practically hissed out at Ironhide.

"Didn't touch him -- ain't my fault he's acting creepy."

"Creepy? Creepy!?" He barely stopped himself from shaking the limp Scorponok in emphasis -- reminding himself that Scorponok was not a patient usually deserving of abuse. Unlike Ironhide. Who deserved copious amounts of abuse. He settled for growling his systems again. Then decided that giving Ironhide what he deserved wasn't worth the effort -- not while he had a patient. After...that was another thing.

He took a few steps away from the group -- stomping to express his ire. A Decepticon prisoner was of course not deserving of any sort of privacy. But a Decepticon defector, who the Autobot leader trusted as much as he did Scorponok, deserved whatever medical privacy he could give him.

And Ratchet was hoping that a bit of distance from Ironhide would help. Whatever he said, the medic was having a hard time believing the black mech had nothing to do with the problem.

Gently he transfered Scorponok from hanging by his tail to laying across most of Ratchet's other arm. He remained limp, unresisting.

"You mind dropping your forcefield."

The forcefield shut off so Ratchet could start his scan. Usually this obedience wasn't worrying, as Scorponok didn't deny Ratchet's medical scans (at least not physicals), but combined with the rest of his passive behavior...

According to the scan though there wasn't anything wrong. Not so much as a wire out of place.

"Too bad you can't just tell me what's wrong."

In response, Scorponok trembled a bit, making a shivery sound. A fear sound.

Relatively new battle programming Ratchet had never been able to completely divorce from his emotions activated and he almost targeted Ironhide. No, he reminded himself, he could beat Ironhide out of his armor later -- when he could manage to do so without engaging battle programming. And would unless the warrior-built had a fragging good explaination.

He turned his gaze back to the limp form on his arm.

"Sometimes you're more trouble than you're worth."

Scorponok trembled.

"Stop that. Slagging moron -- if I was going to do anything to you I'd have done it during your processor scan."

Scorponok jerked, his legs tightening around Ratchet's arm for a moment.

"Don't act like that never occured to you -- you certainly weren't trusting at the time."

That got him a small collection of questioning and uncertain sounds. Ratchet tried figuring out what that meant. It wasn't the simple "I don't know" or "What was that?" or anything Ratchet knew the meaning of. He thought back to that processor scan. he hadn't told Optimus any of his more disturbing findings. One of which was that just over a third of his self-written programming -- what a human might term 'things learned by experience' -- was dedicated to figuring out how to avoid being punished by a given mech.

Since Optimus was both the highest ranked Autobot and the one Scorponok considered his master, his reaction was the most important. And Optimus was pleased, even if he wasn't always amused, by expressions of preference, shows of independence, even outright defiance -- and never punished him. So Scorponok was obnoxious, temperamental and demanding, because is pleased Optimus and he'd protect him from the reactions of the other Autobots.

But without Prime here, he was fitting his behavior to them. Obviously he figured Ironhide wanted him to stay quiet and not so much as twitch without permission. Simple, and didn't contradict whatever he figured Bumblebee wanted.

Knowing the yellow scout- and diplomat-built as he did, that was probably a simple "Stay where I can see you."

But Ratchet -- he had run enough diagnostics on his own processors to know that contradictions -- contradictions he purposely never resolved -- between his older and newer programming caused him to send mixed signals. Scorponok probably couldn't figure him out, and as he was the one holding him at the moment... Which meant those questioning and uncertain sounds were probably the equivalent of "Tell me what you want. I'll do it -- don't hurt me."

Battle programming reacted to his disgust. No targeting engaged, as the targets of his emotions were not present. Were in fact all dead or else this situation wouldn't exist. So he let it run a bit. Battle programming, medical knowledge and the memories of medical cases involving the victims of Decepticon interrogation all combining to create some rather vivid fantasies involving Blackout. Then all three Insecticons -- the Autobots had never been certain which one Scorponok had been attached to. Then the unknown mech who'd built Scorponok.

Then he dipped too far into his medical programming to come up with an imaginary schematic for Scorponok's creator and felt disgusted at himself. How could he even think --

Ratchet shook his head as though to shake his processors into a semblance of the order they'd had before the war. It never worked and there was no reason to think it would. But the other option was to delete parts of his medical programming to resolve the contradictions -- as he heard Mikaela say once: "Not happening."

Calmer, Ratchet deposited Scorponok across his shoulder and part of his back -- out of the way. "Just...stay there until I can hand you off to Optimus, slagger." Obediently the drone clamped there.

He turned back to the knot of humans and Autobots. Now to deal with Ironhide while he could be relatively rational about it.

He stalked over and hit the warrior-built.

"What the frag was that for?"

"Two and a half slagging weeks, you slagger, and you didn't think to call me." He was dimly aware of Bumblebee and the humans edging away.

"He was just acting a bit off."

"A 'bit off'? Did he even move? And you didn't think there might be a medical reason?"

"Was it?" Clang! -- Ratchet hit him again.

"No. And you're slagging lucky it isn't. I wouldn't be being nearly so gentle -- not to mention what Optimus'd do to you. If --"

"Ratchet." Bumblebee interrupted.

"What?" He turned on the yellow scout. Ironhide took his chance to slink away while the medic was distracted. For a warrior-built he could be such a slagging coward sometimes.

"If you're going to kill Ironhide, you might want to wait until Optimus isn't watching." By way of gesturing Bumblebee transmitted a set of proximity coordinates.

Sure enough there was Prime, well within sensor range, being followed by another Autobot in his alt form. Ratchet was not going to be able to continue his tantrum. Growling he kicked up a small dust cloud.

"Are you okay, Ratchet?" The question came from the vicinity of his shin. He looked down -- Mikaela. Of course neither Ironhide nor Bumblebee would have asked. They knew what was wrong with him.

"Yes, Mikaela. There are no unusual malfunctions." Any more than that would be a breech of medical privacy -- even if Ratchet was both the doctor and the patient.

"That sounds like a 'Yes there's something wrong -- I just don't want to tell you about it' to me."

"It is private."

"Says the robot who commented on Sam and my pheromones when we met."

Ratchet stiffened at the reminder of his mistake. It hadn't been his last, but he now knew it was probably the most embarassing one he could have made. "I was not aware --"

"'S cool, Ratchet. So tell me why it's private and I won't ask again."

With a flick of his scanners, he checked Optimus's location. It would still be a few minutes before he and his companion got to the main group. Then he considered what to tell Mikaela.

"Our...bodies," he began hesitently, "are not often considered private. As a medic, I have the most sensitive scanners, but every mech has scanners. Unless a mech is shielding the way Scorponok does --"

"All of you know what's going on inside the others. So you thought I knew about Sam's pheromones when you mentioned them?"

"Yes and yes. Except Scorponok, since he keeps his systems shielded, but he is entitled to physical privacy if he desires it. It is a Decepticon attitude, true, but not one any would ask him to abandon. Our processor code is private, however, and only to be shared with a medic and those emotionally close enough that the only human term is 'family'."

"So..." she trailed off, then grinned and Ratchet recognized the expression meaning she was going to drop the subject by way of a joke. "You're having a mental breakdown, but it's none of my business. That's cool. I'll leave you to it." And she pointedly turned to watch Optimus pull up that last hundred feet.

The newcomer's car mode was about the same size as Bumblebee's -- a mini-bot then -- and a shade of orange that managed to be eye-catching without being what humans termed "Emergency Orange". He did a quick search over the Internet for the car. A new Porsche, he found just as Mikaela whistled.

"Nice," was her conclusion.

'Bots and humans gathered around, but still gave them the room to transform. Optimus opened his door to allow his passenger out.

While the humans seemed simply facinated by the act of transforming, Ratchet used the moment to scan for damage to either of them.

Though he did notice that the mini-bot was very similar to Bumblebee. The same basic model certainly, perhaps even the same creator. But where Bumblebee had embraced his design-function as a planetary scout, this one had made modifications -- extra weapons, extra armor -- that indicated he was a warrior at spark.

Likely this one was going to be as bad a patient as Ironhide. Ratchet was already calculating the time it would take to fix the extra shorts in his own processor.

"Nice to see you go on a roadtrip by yourself and come back withough any injuries for once." He transmitted privately to Optimus.

Optimus ignored the transmition with an almost insulting amount of aplomb.

"This is," the leader addressed the mechs and humans in English but said the name first in Cybertronian. "He has chosen the English designation Cliffjumper."

"Hi everybody."

Optimus introduced each of them to Cliffjumper. When his name was said, Ratchet gave a distracted response, still paying more attention to his scans than what was being said. He was trying to sort out the modifications to Cliffjumper's form -- which were deliberate and which were the results of his new alt form -- and exactly how he differed from Bumblebee. And it looked like he needs some repairs: he'd overtaxed his spacial thrusters and there were scorch marks on his struts -- no way to tell whether that was simply from atmospheric entry or battle damage without a closer look...

He did not expect to be plowed into by Cliffjumper.

"What the --?"

"Cliffjumper! No --!"

"Fragging Pit --!"

Distantly he heard the humans scatter away from the two wrestling 'bots. Less distantly (due to the fragger being right next to his audios) he heard Scorponok's shriek as he was slammed into the ground under the weight of the two bigger 'bots.

Then Cliffjumper's swearing got more vicious and he scrambled partially off the medic. Ratchet took the opportunity to shove the 'bot off and away from him.

He shook his head and regained his feet, to find Prime kneeling next to him in concern.

"I'm fine. Stop looking at me like that, fragger."

Optimus smiled. "No need to be insulting," he said mildly.

"I'll be insulting if I slagging Pit well want to be, you over-sized pain in the aft." Ratchet transmitted and turned to the orange mini-bot currently being held down by Ironhide.

"Let me go!" He was yelling. "I'm gonna slag that 'Con...why are you --? It killed --"

"That's enough, Cliffjumper." The orange 'bot quieted under Prime's glare. "Would you like to explain just why you attacked our medic?"

"Medic?" Cliffjumper reset his optics and stared at Ratchet as though seeing him for the first time, Ratchet folded his arms across his chest and glared back. "Sir! He's a Decepticon spy. He has to be -- he's harboring that -- that creature!"

Ironhide cursed as Cliffjumper stated struggling again. Optimus and Ratchet looked at each other.

"I was carrying Scorponok." Ratchet realized.

Prime's optics brightened and he scanned the desert as he realized that Scorponok wasn't in sight. Ratchet heard a low thrum from the semi's engine. From the confused look from Bumblebee, off to one side sheltering the humans, he wasn't the only one. Ironhide was still busy holding Cliffjumper.

A patch of dirt near Optimus's foot shivered and fell away, revealing Scorponok clicking and thrumming back at the Autobot leader.

The answering thrum changed to a very happy chirring as Optimus ran his fingers across the drone's armor.

"Prime, no!" The 'bots turned their attention back to Cliffjumper. "That thing's a Decepticon. It'll --"

"Primus, will you shut the frag up," Ironhide practically growled. "You ain't saying anything I haven't." Cliffjumper quieted again.

"Thank you Ironhide." Optimus lifted the drone so he could clasp to the bigger mech's him, in what had become his usual spot. "Cliffjumper, Scorponok was a Decepticon. He defected not long after Megatron's defeat."

"It has to be a trick. Drones aren't capable --" Scorponok hissed at the mini-bot in denial. The other's probably missed the exact meaning, but Ratchet had recently been in Scorponok's processors and seen his sound-effect communication files. "See? See?"

"I don't see anything but a stubborn mini-bot who needs to fragging listen to what he's being told," was Ratchet's opinion.

Cliffjumper stopped and computed that a moment. "That thing killed Windcharger (though speaking English like Prime, he said the name in Cybertronian), Sir, I'll never believe it's anything but a Decepticon."

"That is your prerogative. I'm sure Ironhide will be happy to have someone who shares his opinion. Nevertheless, Scorponok is not to be attacked without proof of wrongdoing."

"Unfortunately being obnoxious doesn't count." Ironhide muttered. Scorponok made a staticky sound that sounded a bit like an imitation of human laughter, as though to emphasize the point.

Cliffjumper subsided into a sulk and Ironhide let him regain his feet.

Crisis over, Optimus continued introducing everyone to Cliffjumper, starting with Sam, Mikaela and Captain Lennox.

Ratchet glowered at the orange 'bot a moment longer. Cliffjumper, for his part, was glowering at Scorponok. He watched a bit as Scorponok thrummed a barely audible question sound from where he was clamped to Prime's hip. Absently Optimus reached down to give the scorpion a pet without pausing the introductions.

Ratchet didn't think Optimus even realized he had done it, but the effect it had on Cliffjumper -- Cliffjumper was bristling in a way that was eerily similar to an angry Earth dog. Scorponok certainly wasn't blind to the orange 'bot's reaction. He blatantly watched the newcomer and waved his tail insultingly even as he chirred contentedly and leaned into Optimus's pet. Rubbing Cliffjumper's faceplate in the fact that he wasn't allowed to attack the 'Decepticon'.

Most of the humans seemed oblivious to the by-play, but Dr. Jackson hadn't missed it any more than Bumblebee had. That was one thing humans didn't seem to understand -- it didn't matter whether you called it 'anthropology' or 'spying'. A trained observer was a trained observer.

Though Optimus was the only Autobot unaware of Scorponok subtly driving Cliffjumper into a tantrum.

Ironhide even looked somewhat amused. Ratchet sent a questioning burst of Cybertronian across a private channel.

"Now I know why Bumblebee doesn't seem to have a problem with the bug. It's fragging funny watching him annoy someone else," Ironhide sent back.

As he watched Cliffjumper almost visibly remind himself that attacking the Prime, even to get at the obnoxious little Decepticon drone, was not a good idea, and Scorponok subtly annoy the orange Porsche into processor lock secure in the Autobot leader's protection, Ratchet had to agree.

And in Ratchet's processor, an obnoxious Scorponok willing to taunt a mech who clearly wanted to kill him was a lot better than a listless one afraid to move. After all, he glanced at Ironhide again, that was normal.

fini

notes: this was going to just be introducing cliffjumper as a character, but then ratchet and scorponok went and completely hijacked the narrative and made it completely about them. if the fragging medic had had his way, he would have bullied poor cliffy right out of the fic.

and look. i know cliffjumper is supposed to be red, but the replacement'verse version is orange -- mostly because when i was researching (--cough--drooling--cough--) the new porsches for his alt, the pictures of the one i chose were the best color orange and i just had to use it. he's a porsche 911 GT3, btw. personally i agree with mikaela -- nice.

many, many thanks to Doctor Egon for encouragement, patience, and suggesting the title.

also...

"complications" actually took me a relatively long time to write (because of certain medics who shall remain nameless being overly opinionated bullies). i started just after christmas and finished a few days ago. which meant it was a work in progress while i was sick over new years. so feverish and medicated, i did a writing exercise to get the nameless medic to cooperate. it worked, but still -- it's stupid, silly and contains both a self-insert and implications that the author is god. and the only reason it's being posted is because Doctor Egon requested it. so...warning: abuse of exclamation points ahead.

Complications -- Deleted Scene

Ratchet considered what to tell Mikaela.

It was a touchy subject and the strained equilibrium between his --

A small orange foam ball bounces off his faceplate, right between his optics.

"What the slag?"

Another small ball hits him in the same spot. This time he's able to track it to the source -- an unknown human female with a gun designed to shoot the harmless projectiles.

"Stop it! Stop ranting about your problems and start focusing on what I want you to focus on!"

"Who the slag are you and why the slag should I listen to you?"

"I'm the one slagging writing this story and I'm tired of writing about you're problems -- I want to move the frag onto Cliffjumper over there!" She points to where Optimus and Cliffjumper are waiting. Cliffjumper waves.

"Too fragging bad!"

He gets hit by another ball.

"Fragging medic!" she shouts. "Melodramatic introspective angst is supposed to be Optimus's job, not yours!"

"I resent --" Optimus starts to protest.

"Shut up!" Both Ratchet and the girl yell.

"I'll angst if I fragging well want to angst, you fragging -- it's your fault anyway. You're the one who wrote that my processor's glitched."

"I wrote that because I thought it would be interesting, you fragging glitch! And if you don't stop angsting, I'll give you a reason to fragging angst, Medic!"

"You wouldn't dare -- you hate pointless pain."

"Yes I fragging would! You'll get captured by the Decepticons -- I'm sure Starscream would be happy to give you plenty to angst about. And it won't be pointless if it makes. You. Focus!" That last word was shrieked so loud everyone flinched.

"Umm -- Miss." Bumblebee breaks into the glaring contest hesitentlly. "Starscream isn't even in the Solar system right now. According to your timeline, he only just found Blitzwing and Laserbeak."

Ratchet smirks triumphantly. The author sees and shoots another Nerf ball at him for his trouble.

"You think that'll stop me, Medic? All I have to do is fragging write 'There's Starscream, in his F-22 form, circling the Autobots at a low altitude' and there he'll fragging be." She point off to the side and toward the sky.

And there's Starscream, in his F-22 form, circling the Autobots at a low altitude.

All the Autobots goggled at the seeker who was supposed to be light years away from Earth, trying to rally the other Decepticons under his banner.

"Understood, Medic?"

Optics still on the Decepticon seeker, Ratchet reviewed everything he knew about the jet. The movie was sketchy on details about the jet. "Ghosts of Yesterday" had more, but there was still alot open to interpretation. And interpret the author had.

"Understood."

"Good." She waves her hand and the seeker disappears -- back trying to convince the triplechanger and Soundwave's drone to follow him and the three other seekers back to Earth. "Now. Say what you need to say to Mikaela, then move on."

fini deleted scene

i am totally blaming the fever for this. 


	17. Conversations 6 and 7

summary: you are not allowed to shoot prime's pet decepticon. other forms of revenge, however, might be up for discussion.

disclaimer: no matter how much i want a giant scorpion-shaped alien war machine with a vicious sense of humor for a pet, i still don't own anything.

warnings: do you people get tired of me saying "transformer cussing" almost every story? or have you stopped even reading the warnings?

Replacement: Roads, Conversation 6 -- Optimus Prime and Cliffjumper

Optimus turned at the sound of shots fired behind him. There was Cliffjumper, shooting his cannon into the dirt, and cussing about sneaky, hateful little fraggers that needed to deactivated for the good of the universe.

"Cliffjumper, stand down." He both said and sent over the Autobots' command channel.

Not that he thought the mini-bot was anywhere close to hitting his target. Scorponok was underground, and would be foolish to be anywhere near Cliffjumper. Ironhide had found out a long time that once burrowed he was almost impossible to catch, and that he never stuck around once he'd annoyed his victim into a shooting frenzy.

It took several minutes for Cliffjumper to actually follow the order, but eventually he did. He then looked at the much bigger mech.

"Sir?"

"No shooting."

"But, Sir -- "

"I mean it Cliffjumper. If Ironhide can manage, so can you. No shooting at Scorponok. I am aware that he can be annoying, but he has not done anything worse than any of the other pranksters we've had in our ranks."

"But, Sir, he's a Decepticon and -- "

"No. Shooting."

"Yes, Sir."

fini conversation 6

Replacement: Roads, Conversation 7 -- Cliffjumper and Air Raid

"He'll never change his mind," He called out to the black and white jet 'former as Air Raid stomped his way past the open hanger toward the runway of the Air Force Base.

Air Raid stopped, blue optics finding the orange 'bot sitting almost sulkily against the wall of the hanger. "What the frag are you talking about?"

"Prime," Cliffjumper clarified, "won't ever let you shoot Scorponok. No matter how much you think the little fragger deserves it."

"How did --?"

"What? You thought you're the only one who wants the shoot the hateful little thing? But the boss-bot wouldn't let Ironhide shoot it. He won't let me shoot it. He definitely won't let you shoot it. So get used to being tormented."

"Or..." Air Raid trailed off, gazing at the mini-bot thoughfully.

"Or, what?" Cliffjumper nearly growled. He'd spoken out as a chance to complain to someone who might share his frustration. When he'd first landed, Ironhide had made a good gripe partner, but something, Cliffjumper didn't know what, had changed the big black mech's process when it came to Scorponok. Sure, the two of them could still complain about how annoying the little fragger was, but Ironhide would no longer listen to Cliffjumper's insistance that the 'Con was going to betray them all and they needed to get rid of it. Primus! The weapons specialist was fragging nice to the hateful little thing even when Prime wasn't watching.

But Air Raid wasn't following the script.

"Or...we don't have to shoot the drone to get revenge."

"Huh?"

A crafty little smile wound its way on to Air Raid's faceplates. "Did you ever serve with the twins?"

"Sure." Cliffjumper hadn't liked either of them, big warrior-builts who were always causing trouble -- especially for mini-bots.

"Remember Sideswipe?"

"Suuure." Not as well as he remembered his twin, Sunstreaker. Where was the Aerialbot going with this?

Air Raid blew some exhaust out of his vents in frustration at the mini-bot's continued denseness. But he had to be patient with the mech, slow processor and all. If he was going to pull of anything resembling a campaign, he would need a partner, and no way was Fireflight going to help him. His brother had made his position on the Scorponok issue clear.

"Remember how Sideswipe would have reacted to being told he wasn't allowed to shoot someone."

Cliffjumper tried to remember. He hadn't served with the twins in eighty vorns, and anyway he remembered Sunstreaker better. The yellow twin had been a violent loose cannon who picked on the mini-bots. Sideswipe hadn't liked the mini-bots any better, but generally they remained beneath his notice. No... usually Sideswipe played his pranks on the other warriors, or the officers. And he --

Waitaminute...

The orange mini-bot couldn't smile the way Air Raid could, but his optics almost imperceptibly brightened as it dawned on him what the flyer was getting at.

Just like that, the two became co-conspirators.

fini conversation 7

notes: crap. what did i just start?

conversation 6 takes place less than a month after cliffjumper lands on earth. conversation 7 about a week after air raid and fireflight land.

80 vorns 6,640 years

and remember...two mechs, no humans. the conversation's in cybertronian, so they can drop names if they want. 


	18. Circles

summary: history repeats itself. watch long enough and you'll see the patterns.

disclaimer: as much as i like him, i've decided that jazz is a nuisance and i wouldn't want to be responsible for him full time. he isn't even alive and still managed to hijack the fic.

warnings: nothing that i haven't warned about before.

Replacement: Roads -- Circles

It started relatively small. The next time Scorponok went to harass Cliffjumper, Cliffjumper sprayed him with silly string. Prime might have been momentarily relieved that the violent orange mini-bot had found a different way of expressing his annoyance, but Ratchet was not happy at all at having to clean the stuff off and out of the drone.

The next day, Cliffjumper (who like the rest of the Autobots on Earth recharged in vehicle mode) woke up to find his back bumper bungee cord-ed to a lamp post on base. What wouldn't have been even an annoyance to a normal car with a human driver, was humiliating for the Porsche, unable to move, transform, or release himself. The humans who'd found him had thought it funny, but Cliffjumper had not.

Then Air Raid dumped a gallon of red paint on the drone during a training exercise. Ratchet had to clean that one up too. During the next exercise, Air Raid couldn't concentrate (not that, one of the pilots laughed, you could tell the difference in his flying) because he kept hearing an annoying buzzing sound coming from somewhere in his interior. A miniature sound player with a recording of a mosquito had been attached to the inside of one of his armor panels. The noise was a low enough volume and placed that, while it seemed overwhelming while in his F-35 form, when he transformed it was far enough from his audios that it was nearly silent. Ratchet had not been amused.

Next, Cliffjumper and Air Raid worked together to set up an elaborate paint and glue and glitter trap hidden in the desert at the entrance of Scorponok's burrow. Apparently they forgot that Scorponok traveled under the desert floor more than he did over it. Ironhide had been fragged off good when he tripped it over a week later. Ratchet's continued streak of non-amusement continued.

That was about the time they both figured out that this was going to be a lot harder than they'd thought. Air Raid, specifically was getting frustrated. He hadn't realized how much of his previous pranking campaigns relied on the 'bot in question having sleeping quarters to put disgusting things in, or doors to those quarters to booby trap, or wash racks to reprogram, or lockers full of personal belongings to put various surprises in, or -- Primus! Personal belongings to mess with in the first place. None of which the Autobots really had here on Earth.

Sure they had free run of this base, and a piece of it set up as an Autobot medical area, but no actual quarters. Air Raid and Fireflight may have generally chosen to recharge with the humans' jets because it was safer and more comfortable, but the car-bots recharged anywhere they thought they wouldn't be bothered for the night -- in the driveways at "their" humans' houses, quiet corners of the base, the nearby desert, truck stops.

Cliffjumper was frustrated too, but mostly because Air Raid was frustrated. He wasn't an experienced prankster and didn't care as much about how uninspired simple silly string and paint were.

Both later found they had some insipid little piece of human technology with speakers glued to the inside of their passenger compartments, blaring out Disney show tunes. The kicker was that somehow these things managed to stay hidden from them until they were both two hours into an eight hour punishment patrol and therefore unable to ask anyone to help them remove the annoying pieces of slag. By the end of the six hours Cliffjumper would have paid anything to be able to erase the words to "Girl Worth Fighting For" from his memory, and Air Raid was ready to maim the human who'd first conceived of "Yo Ho A Pirate's Life for Me".

Cliffjumper then managed to recruit some humans in to a game of paint ball, with Scorponok as the target. And Air Raid managed to peg the drone with a handful of eggs. A mech sized handful. He still thought that was uninspired, but felt it would more than make up for it in being disgusting. Very disgusting, and Ratchet had to help clean the drone off.

Speaking of disgusting -- it took them weeks to find the potatoes rotting in their circuitry. Where Scorponok got the potatoes was the subject of much speculation among the humans. Various guesses were put forth, from "He stole them from the base kitchens" to "they fell off the back of a cargo truck on the high way" and "He's secretly growing them somewhere in the desert" ("Man, why the fuck would a mechanical scorpion be secretly growing potatoes?" "I dunno. Maybe scorpions like french fries too?" "You're whacked.") and got increasingly more ridiculous from there.

Ratchet was growing more and more livid.

And the two conspirators were finding it more and more difficult to come up with ways of catching Scorponok in their pranks without catching anyone else. The incident with Ironhide (and the six hours of Disney music while they were being punished for catching Ironhide) had made them decide against setting any more traps. And catching him in recharge wasn't working -- the critter was always either with Prime or in his burrow. Sure when he was with Prime, he was out in the open, but if something happened and they caught Prime in it, their lives would pretty much be over. So far Optimus had ignored the obvious prank war, saying that it was better if they worked out their disagreement like this rather than shooting each other (that comment was the only reason Ratchet hadn't maimed anyone yet), but that would end if he got caught in one.

Finally they bribed a pair of humans (with what, neither they nor the humans ever admitted to) to sneak up on him while he recharged in Prime's truck bed and put a just under hundred glittery Barbie stickers and close to thirty obnoxious bumper stickers on him. The soldiers found the slogans "CAUTION! I speed up to run over small animals" and "Honk if you've never seen an Uzi fired from a car window" amusing. But everyone's favorite, including Ironhide's, was "Is There Life After Death? TOUCH MY TRUCK AND FIND OUT" which had been placed on Scorponok's right claw-cannon. Ironhide was even in favor of making that the bug's official slogan, which did not exactly earn him any brownie points from Optimus Prime. The Barbie stickers eventually soaked off, but the bumper stickers had to be sandblasted.

How Scorponok managed to put twenty squeaky toys in each of their ankle joints in broad daylight without being noticed was anyone's guess. And since, after sandblasting the stickers off, Ratchet had shouted for all to hear that the next 'bot that came to him to have the results of some prank removed was going to find himself missing a few non-essential components -- transformation cogs, for example -- the two of them spent the better part of two days with squeaky ankles before Ratchet decided the noise was more annoying than fixing them would be.

Ironhide thought it was funny. Of course he did. The two conspirators were learning something he'd known since his early vorns of service in Prime's unit.

Ratchet may have been merciful enough to pull the squeaky toys out of those two slaggers' ankles, but he was still fit to be tied. More than ready to maim. So it was perhaps fortunate for Scorponok that he managed to dodge Cliffjumper's next creative application of paint. But only barely. And only because a human had seen what was about to happen and given the Porsche away by snickering.

Too bad for Cliffjumper that, despite paranoid precautions that would make Red Alert believe he was crazy, he still wasn't able to keep the bug from sneaking up on him while he recharged...

That morning, Ironhide was hanging around Ratchet as the latter ranted about how the Autobot unit was turning into a human preschool classroom and how the medic was being turned into a glorified babysitter and all of them were over forty vorns old and should have out grown such juvenileness a long, long time ago and they were all a bunch of stupid sparklings who were doing this just to annoy him.

The first they heard about the latest development of the prank war was Cliffjumper yelling, "I'm gonna kill the sorry little fragger for this!" Apparently whatever Scorponok had done this time had broken through whatever self control the mini-bot had been using to prank the drone rather than shoot him.

Ratchet was doing an admirable job of not exploding at the thought of having to help clean up another prank. Mostly that involved focusing really, really hard on tinkering with his medical tool array. Thus he was facing away from the orange 'bot when he came stomping into the corner of the Air Force base that had been assigned to the Autobots for use as a "medical area" snarling "Where the frag is it?"

He continued focusing on his tinkering, convinced he did not want to know. Dimly he heard Ironhide say, in a strangely strangled sounding tone, "Bug left with Prime early this morning." Then, after just a tick, Ironhide nearly collapsed with laughter and Ratchet decided he should probably turn around and see what he was going to have to clean up this time.

And had to reset his optics just to make sure he really was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Then he laughed too.

"Shut up. It's not funny."

Cliffjumper was no longer a solid orange 'bot. Instead, he was a sort of dark maroon with slight yellow accents. It was very neatly and professionally done too, and Ratchet wondered how the frag a scorpion-bot with no proper hands had managed it.

But that wasn't even the funniest part. The real funny part was the bright turquoise Decepticon symbol painted crisply on one of Cliffjumper's chest plates. That had to have taken some skill -- especially considering it would have been placed on him while he was in alt mode. Fuming and bristling, Cliffjumper made a fairly impressive (if ridiculously colored) Decepticon.

It did not take long at all for the formerly orange mini-bot to get completely fed up with them and stomp off, hoping he could find Air Raid to help him. Unfortunately for him, Air Raid and Fireflight had been sent off late last night for a surprise combat drill two hours before sunrise at a Navy base that currently had carrier parked nearby ("nearby" defined as "a twenty minute flight out to sea"). After it they were to help train the carrier's pilots and so weren't to be back for a while.

As what was apparently just supposed to be an added insult, Cliffjumper's ankle squeaked as he stomped off.

It took the two 'bots a long time to manage to quiet their laughter, because occasionally one would snicker and set them both off again. Humans would occasionally stop and stare at the two hysterical mechs with the sort of wide-eyed surprise and/or bemusement they displayed whenever the Autobots did something either too human or too alien to fit into their personal world views.

Then, after they both managed to go a couple of breems without setting each other off again, Ratchet sat up and looked at Ironhide, still laying on his back with a calm, thoughtful look rarely seen his face.

"What's on your CPU?"

Ironhide smiled a bit and his optics refocused from looking-at-nothing to looking up at Ratchet. "Just remembering."

Remembering... pranks... 'bots waking up painted ridiculous colors... "About Jazz?"

"Yeah...and wondering how long it'll take those two fraggers to learn ya can't win a prank war against an infiltrator."

"Oh, Primus!" Ratchet knew exactly what the weapon specialist was referring to, "Hopefully not as long as it took Jazz to teach you. I don't think my sanity algorithms could take that again."

"Hey!" Ironhide say up so the two mechs were facing each other, "In ma defense, I was only a couple vorns old -- a sparkling by any definition."

"And how many times did you wake up painted yellow?"

"Not nearly as many times as I found 'Hi my name is Ironhide and I'm a masochist -- Please kick me' written on ma aft. You would not believe how many mechs actually did kick me." Neither the yellow paint jobs nor the kicks in the aft had been funny at the time. But time, distance, friendship and death did strange things to one's perception. Looking back now, Ironhide felt only fondness, and grief.

"Oh...I'd believe you. I was one of them remember?"

"Yeah, I remember...still haven't gotten you back for it -- I remember that too."

The words might have promised eventual retribution, but Ironhide's tone was still sort of a lazy, mournful drawl that meant he was more than half buried in memories rather than contemplating anything close to the present. So Ratchet's "And you won't ever, if you know what's good for you," didn't hold any of the threat it would have otherwise.

Whatever Ironhide might have said to that was lost however, as they heard Cliffjumper's shrieking upon finding out about the flyers' absence from the base. Then more shrieking mixed with human laughter as he discovered that the two mechs weren't the only sentients able to appreciate his new paint job in the way it had been intended. Both Ratchet and Ironhide snickered quietly.

Scorponok, Ratchet thought, had been very, very smart to be nowhere in the vicinity when his victim woke up, the way most pranksters couldn't resist being. Though he didn't doubt the assassin would find some way to get his claws on some of the security footage later.

Jazz would have probably gotten along great with Scorponok.

fini

notes: how the frag did that become a serious fic?

timing--uh...cliffjumper starts with the silly string less than a week after his conversation with air raid, and wakes up painted like a decepticon over two months later. i'm really not sure how long the the pranks continue after that -- though i'm sure air raid holds out longer than cliffjumper.

and i share air raid's frustration. i didn't realize how much the living situation i'd made up for them would limit pranks, esp on the cliffjumper-air raid side.

"girl worth fighting for" is from the "mulan" soundtrack. the version of "yo ho a pirate's life for me" i was imagining was the one from the original disneyland ride rather than from the movie, but i suppose that detail doesn't matter much to air raid. and i didn't come up with any of the bumper sticker slogans. i found them on a site that had like a billion different ones for sale.

btw...cliffjumper's decepticon paint job is loosely based off of some pictures i recently found of the g1 dead end toy. that was probably the one, true, clearest image i had in my head when i started writing this--cliffjumper painted to look like dead end. done as a kinda nod to the many, many discussions Doctor Egon and i have had about the general ridiculousness of the 'bots' colors in the cartoon -- esp the decepticons. i was so glad that the movie actually used colors that allowed them blend in as vehicles and get taken seriously as 'bots. horribly human of me, i know, but...

as an added treat -- if you're interested, a memo on a specific change in policy from secretary keller to the applicable people has been added to the end of "anthropologist's report 2". such minor "epilogues" are probably going to become regular occurrences tacked onto the some of the anthro reports. i thought it would be neat to see a bit about how daniel's affecting things, even when he's a sort of really minor character most of the time. 


	19. Anthropologist's Report 3

summary: doctor daniel jackson's enlightened observations on communication among the autobots...

disclaimer: i have a glass pen. that has to count for something right? (crickets chirp)

warnings: none

Anthropologist's Report 3 -- On Non-Vocal Communication

Being only human I have no way of definitively confirming this, but I'm certain the Autobots transmit to each other as, or more, often than they speak aloud. They don't do this out of any real desire to keep the conversations private from us human -- of that I'm as certain. Rather, sending sending and receiving, both radio and something they call 'subspace', transmissions are as integral to them as their voices are.

They use those transmissions for a variety of things. The most obvious use it to carry on a conversations at a distance. It doesn't matter that Bumblebee is at Sam's house, Ironhide is at the Lennoxs', and Ratchet and Optimus Prime driving around in directions opposite each other, they are constantly checking in and conversing with each other. They also use it like whispering -- carrying on a second conversation under the one being said aloud, since the volume of their voices and the sensitivity of their audio sensors make vocal whispering difficult or even impossible around mechs designed with especially sensitive audios.

They use them to identify each other. Often instead of a saying "look here" or gesturing, they will transmit a set of coordinates. It's that specific use that convinces me that they aren't using transmissions to hide information from humans.

They also don't keep the fact that they are transmitting to each other secret from each other. Their equipment may not be able to listen to transmissions that aren't directed at them or broadcast openly, but they can pick up that there are transmissions being broadcast around them.

And they don't consider it rude for private conversations to be going on around them. Once, I noticed that Ratchet and Ironhide were speaking to each other via a private transmission while Prime was speaking to them. After, I asked about it, and Prime said that if it had been inappropriate, he would have privately told them to stop.

This is an innate part of the way they communicate and they've gotten the idea that phones and cell phones are the humans' equivalent to their communications equipment -- though someone has explained to them that for humans it's considered rude to talk on the phone while talking to another person so they only use human phones for long distance communication.

fini

note: that was surprisingly difficult to write. i'm not sure why...

timing--a little bit after "complications" 


	20. Anthropologist's Report 4

summary: be polite to trucks

disclaimer: i don't own either transformers or doctor daniel jackson. as far as i know i do own the "soldier's guide to alien interaction" and i did take a very long time to come up with the cultural information.

warnings: none

Anthropologist's Report 4 -- On The Cultural Ramifications of an Alternate Form

The habits, traditions and courtesies surrounding the use of alt forms by the transformer species as a whole are complex.

Transformer alternate forms were not initially for disguise. Why would they be? They have no need for cars themselves, so if you were a a transformer and saw a car/truck/tank/plane you knew it was another transformer. Routine identify friend/foe transmissions usually even told you who the alt form was.

Considering this, the Decepticons Blackout and Starscream's careful and successful impersonation of our military craft indicates that they've had practice -- against at least one other alien species that use vehicles they could impersonate. But that's a different tangent.

Just because they weren't disguises, does not mean that alternate forms were useless. No, they were to travel faster, haul more weight, do things and go places they couldn't in their primary forms. They were also a means of creating emotional distance.

Transformers in their primary forms display their emotions through facial expressions and body language that their alt forms cannot produce. So on an interpersonal level, their alternate forms are for hiding their emotions -- not that they're feeling something, but what exactly they're feeling -- equivalent to a human turning his or her back on someone or just walking away.

So since the transformer in his alt form is trying to deal with some intense -- probably negative -- emotions, it would be very impolite to intrude unless you are part of that transformer's family unit. Transformer to transformer it's considered polite to pretend the one in his alt form isn't there -- giving him the emotional distance he wants.

This is where the habit habit of recharging (equivalent to sleeping) in their alt forms came from, even when they're on the base where they could rest in their primary forms if they wanted -- a sort of implied "don't bother me". But this habit is very recent, adopted only since coming to Earth.

Further back, things got a bit mixed up when they left Cybertron and first started using their alt forms for disguise. They found that the idea of vehicles that talked was in general more upsetting than giant robots. So since, even among organics that knew about them, talking cars were unnerving, they adopted the practice of allowing the organic to choose to acknowledge them, or not.

On the issue of politeness: between a transformer in his alt form and an organic, the transformer is being polite by remaining unresponsive until the organic acknowledges him. Between two transformers, the one not in his alt form doesn't acknowledge the other because he is being polite and allowing the other his emotional distance.

How to tell the difference between a mech that's recharging, one that wants to be left alone, and one that's in disguise takes some practice. Mostly it's a matter of where they are. Around the base, or anyplace they're freely allowed to be in primary form, they're either recharging or wish to be left alone. Where they're in places where the disguise is necessary, all three are possible and if you approach and they aren't in the mood for company they'll tell you, and most won't take offense for the mistake.

All of this brings up one issue with Scorponok though: Scorponok doesn't have an alternate form.

This means that in some ways he's improperly socialized -- even beyond having been a Decepticon until recently and being a drone. I don't think any of the Autobots realize that this is why he sometimes acts the way he does. He's pushing the boundries, trying to see where he fits in to his new culture (and remember that despite a common starting point, the Autobot/Decepticon War had been going on long enough that they are different cultures). He especially wants to know where the line for misbehavior and punishment it.

The example that applies to the Autobots' concepts of privacy when in alt form is that Scorponok harasses the other Autobots whether they're in their alt forms or not, which is a very impolite thing for another transformer to do. But, because he himself doesn't have an alt form, and among the Decepticons would have likely been punished for bothering a mech whether he was in his alt form or not, Scorponok doesn't realize the social breach he committing by bothering the Autobots in their alt form.

However, Scorponok's relationships with the other Autobots are best dealt with by them. Just remember that we as humans shouldn't take our cues from him, because he's still trying to figure out where he fits in.

end report

Addition to the "Soldier's Guide to Alien Interaction", a supposedly unofficial 'zine given to every new recruit at the main anti-Decepticon base:

"Don't bug them when they're not robots. Seriously, they like being robots and mostly hang out as robots wherever they're allowed. So when they're car's or trucks or planes, they're probably sleeping. Or they really want to be left alone. You don't want anyone bugging you while you're sleeping, so don't bug them while they're sleeping. And you thought your cranky bunkmate was a chore to deal with -- at least your bunkmate can't step on you. And if they're sulking, you really don't want to bug them, 'cause they're probably mad or something, and they really are big enough to step on you and are already cranky.

And whatever you do, don't think 'just because the scorpion-bot can do it, so can I'. 'Cause really, he's special. Yeah, he's small enough that the others can step on him if they wanted, but, really, he's got privileges we don't."

fini

notes: i think of all the cultural information i came up with that might make it into anthropologist's reports, i'm the most proud of this. dunno why.

timing -- submitted sometime after "circles"

sorry there's not actual story updates. i've been busy, and tired, and my muses have been uncooperative. that's the big one, i think. i'll apologize in advance for what looks like a longer than normal wait from me. 


	21. Turning Point part one

summary: battle and its aftermath causes scorponok to realize something about himself

disclaimer: me: muwahahaha -- i own everything!  
sister's e-mailed response: that's as stupid as the time you tried to convince me the christmas decorations were hallucinations.  
me: ...spoil my fun will you.

warnings: battle violence

Replacement: Roads -- Turning Point part one

Never before had Scorponok actually been glad to see Ironhide. Not unhappy by his presence -- sure -- more than happy to torment him if he was there -- most definitely. But happy to see him because it meant the Autobot weapon specialist was here and not somewhere else -- this was a first.

Not that Scorponok had a lot of time to ponder it. Ironhide came and wedged himself into the scant cover provided by a small dip in the landscape and some rocks. He provided cover for the injured Prime and sniped at the three Decepticons overhead -- what Scorponok had been doing, but Ironhide was better suited for it.

One of the jets brought himself to a transforming landing just outside Ironhide's range and immediately collapsed into a tank form -- a triplechanger. Scorponok thought it was probably Blitzwing -- one of his former masters had served with that 'changer a long time ago -- but he couldn't be sure past the unfamiliar angles of his new alt forms. Scorponok burrowed, using his sonar to map what parts of the ground he could dig through, and left to confront the sniper-tank, leaving his master's safety-from-the-seekers with Ironhide.

He may not trust Ironhide not to hurt him without Prime there to stop him, but Ironhide's loyalty was to Prime. He could trust the black mech would do all he could to protect his master. And someone had to at least distract Blitzwing.

His sensors registered the arrival of two ground vehicles and he surfaced out of the sand just long enough to identify the newcomers. Autobots -- Ratchet and Bumblebee -- moving to engage Blitzwing. Good.

Back beneath the sand, he heard Blitzwing leave off trying to play sniper-tank with Ironhide to engage the other two Autobots.

Now that he knew them, Scorponok's seismic and vibro sensors kept track of them effortlessly. Neatly Scorponok approached under Blitzwing. Busy, the triplechanger didn't realize his danger.

Just as he was transforming from tank to primary form, Scorponok leapt from the sand and latched onto a part in the process of becoming a leg, jamming his tail into his target. Caught mid-tranforamation, the strike did a lot more damage to the heavily armored mech than little Scorponok otherwise could have.

Jet engines screaming in rage, Blitzwing smashed his fist into the drone, sending the smaller 'bot flying

He hit the desert floor hard and in that moment of recovering from the blow and righting himself, Scorponok saw a seeker start to angle in low to get a good shot at his master and Ironhide.

No. No. No. Scorponok burrowed -- he needed to get in front of the seeker. He was not going to let this happen.

In his element, under the sand, it was hard to keep targeting on the seeker. Scorponok was not designed to attack flyers. The difficulty was compounded by the overwhelming vibrations of the jet engines working as close to the ground without touching it as this seeker's were distorting the input he was getting from his vibro sensors.

Thrust. This had to be Thrust -- he was the only seeker Scorponok knew of who had been modified to hover and crawl through the air in his alt form the way this one was doing.

Didn't matter, but if this was Thrust...

Scorponok leapt. The seeker lurched in the air under the sudden added weight. He scrambled, trying to latch on to the mech. When he thought he had the best possible grip, the best angle, he struck with his tail, aiming for Thrust's VTOL engines.

Close, but a miss. Thrust started to pull up, to the sky and Scorponok pushed away, allowing gravity to take him back to his element.

From beneath the sand, he could tell that only the Autobots were on the ground. He shivered back to the surface near his master to get a look at the Decepticons in the air.

Blitzwing was gone. The two seekers were circling. Without the triplechanger's support, there were unwilling to come back into weapons' range of the Autobots. But they were also less willing to retreat and face Starscream.

Ratchet moved to begin treating Prime's injuries while Bumblebee, Ironhide and the now arrived Cliffjumper kept their stand off with the seekers. Finally the Decepticons got bored of circling and flew off, leaving the Autobots alone in the desert.

Dimly he heard the Autobots takling around him and sensed transmissions as they contacted various humans, trying to arrange for a place to finish repairs and allow Prime to recover. Ratchet yelled at them that he was trying to concentrate, Primus fraggit. Scorponok didn't care. He had optics only for his injured master.

He crept closer until he could press himself against Prime's less injured side. Ratchet paused to give him a wary look -- of all of them Ratchet had the best reason for wariness; he'd managed to see what Scorponok had always kept hidden and to this day the scorpion drone didn't know why the medic kept it secret -- but allowed his presence.

Around them there was arguing and stomping, but none of it mattered. Not until he was yanked away from his injured master by his tail.

He screeched and tried to dig into sand, then twisted up to bite the 'bot who held him. Cliffjumper did not let go. He shook his captive somewhat viciously.

"Stay away from him, Decepticon scum."

Scorponok writhed and struggled and shrieked in the orange 'bot's hold. He shouldn't have. He knew that. He should have submitted and hoped that Cliffjumper would be content to hold him captive or that his docility would earn him some help from Ratchet or Bumblebee. Instead he fought, and no one would aid.

He master was hurt. He needed --

"Put him down, Cliffjumper."

The hands he was fighting with, shrieking and struggling, stilled. "Sir, what?"

"You heard just fine, fragger. I said put the Primus fragged drone down."

Still struggling, Scorponok noticed only another lurch when Ironhide yanked Cliffjumper off balance, then grabbed the smaller mech's hands and forced them open.

"Now -- go guide the humans here."

"But --"

"Scat!"

Back on the ground, Scorponok scrambled back to press himself against his master again. As close as pysically possible, he let out a short burst of navigational sonar and it came back with a picture of Prime's injuries. He wasn't a medic and they were unlike anything he himself could inflict. He couldn't tell --

"Stop that, slagger," Ratchet growled at him, "I can fragging hear you."

Making a series of vibrating clicks, Scorponok obeyed. If the medic decided he was in the way, he wouldn't be allowed to stay. He contented himself to just listening to his master's systems hum with his vibro seensors.

So focused was he that he didn't notice when Ironhide sent Bumblebee on a patrol arc or when he ceased his own pacing. He did notice Ironhide staring at him though and hunkered down closer (if that was possible) to Prime.

The black mech stepped closer, focused on the drone. Scorponok wanted to back away, to burrow, to flee -- without his master's protection, Ironhide was terrifying -- but that would mean moving away from where he could hear Ratchet making repairs, hear his master's systems. Suddenly he regretted harassing the big mech. Maybe if he hadn't, Ironhide would -- but...

Conflicted he huddled there, optics on Ironhide, and shivered.

He didn't see Ratchet look up with a frown. Or notice the buzz of a private transmission before the medic returned to his work.

Ironhide crouched and reached out to Scorponok. He flinched. He couldn't help it. He never expected any gentle treatment from this mech.

"Ain't gonna hurt you." Gentle though is wat he was being, brushing his fingertips so lightly they barely touched Scorponok's armor. "Ya probably saved my life -- just wanted to thank you."

Then without so much as a hint of threat, he pulled away from the confused drone. "I understand you didn't do it for me, but still...thanks." And left, back to keeping watch.

No, he hadn't done it for Ironhide.

In fact, he wasn't really sure how he'd done it at all. Scorponok was not designed to attack seekers. Curled up on Prime's form, he ran the vairables through his processor -- angles, distance, speed, the slight scrambling of his sensors from the jet's engines -- that leap had been impossible. But he hadn't run the calculations at the time, just act.

It was .. very unlike him. For anyone else he would have run the calculations. For his previous masters, occasionally he had, and never worried when they were injured -- they would be repaired or not, and he had never mourned the loss, only the broken link. Never judged their lives worth more than his own.

But for Optimus Prime, who his creator had tried to program him to hate above all others, who hadn't even accepted the command link, Scorponok had attacked a seeker on the wing. Would give everything he'd managed to keep from his other masters, and he didn't understand why.

Even having been designed and programed as a servant, the concept of willingly giving more than was asked of him was foreign. And yet, now he realized that this hadn't even been the first time. They were small things, but he'd done them not out of fear of being punished or because they'd been asked of him, but because they'd make his master happy. He'd stopped transmitting the link request because it upset Prime.

He heard his master's systems move into a more stable pattern. Weak, but stable. He was gently shooed so the Autobots could move Prime onto the flat bed trailer the humans had provided. No one protested when he hopped up to ride with him.

Listening to his master's systems hum, Scorponok set his alarms to go off if they deviated from a stable patten. Driving next to the trailer, Ratchet was obviously watching them both.

fini

notes: part two of "turning points" is finished and in the typing and editing phase. technically they're still two different ficlets, but they only consented to be written if i wrote them simultaneously and then when i tried coming up with titles, they informed me that of course they had the same title, dummy. i think i'm going crazy. it'll be up in a few days. 


	22. Turning Point part two

summary: in the aftermath of a skirmish with decepticons, ironhide struggles to adjust his view of his former enemy

disclaimer: don't wanna. can't make me. besides, i think it's covered by the pervious ficlets...

warnings: cussing -- both transformer and human. more of the former than the latter.

Replacement: Roads -- Turning Point part two

He saved your life.

Even as Ironhide contacted Captain Lennox, Agent Banacheck, Secretary Keller and every other government person who knew, and explained what had happened -- that they needed a defensible position to conduct repairs -- his thoughts came back to that.

He saved your life.

He managed to arrange for a truck and a human driver and an empty corner lot on the nearest Air Force base. Or rather, a lot which was the easiest spot large enough for them to empty on short notice.

That Decepticon saved Ironhide's life.

But a Decepticon wouldn't have saved and Autobot's life.

He watched Scorponok press himself against Optimus's form, seeking comfort. He watched when Cliffjumper took issue with the 'Con's proximity and as Scorponok fought to return to Prime's side.

Scorponok had saved Ironhide's life, but obviously hadn't done it for Ironhide.

"Put him down, Clffjumper."

Cliffjumper stalled his attempt of get a better hold on the drone in surprise. "Sir, what?" The words were incredulous.

Suddenly Ironhide was inexplicably -- inexplicable, really? The drone saved your lives -- angry at Cliffjumper -- Cliffjumper or yourself? -- for his suspicion and hostility. More than anything right now, he did not want to argue this. "You heard me just fine, fragger," he growled. He grabbed the mini-bot's arm and pulled, holding his hands to force them open. "I said put the Primus fragged drone down."

Not that Ironhide had given Cliffjumper a choice about it. Scorponok scrambled back to Optimus, pressing worriedly to his side. Ironhide shoved Cliffjumper away from them. Cliffjumper hadn't gotten here in time for the battle. He hadn't seen -- He had no right --

"Now -- go guide the humans here." Unsurprisingly the orange 'bot tried to protest. "Scat!" The fragger scat-ed.

He and Bumblebee were arranging for the yellow 'bot to patrol, running his sensors in a wide arc to check that the 'Cons had really left, when they heard Ratchet. "Stop that, fragger. I can hear you." What he was referring to, Ironhide couldn't tell, but he was addressing Scorponok, and didn't follow it up even with a threat, so he finished the plans with Bumblebee and sent him off.

Nothing more to do but wait, unless Bumblebee found something. Ironhide paced, thinking.

He's a Decepticon. He saved your life. A Decepticon wouldn't have done that. He didn't do it for you. He's a Decepticon.

Right, like a Decepticon would've saved Optimus's life any more than Ironhide's.

But he's a slagging 'Con.

Ironhide kept circling around that contradiction. They were both true -- Scorponok's a Decepticon; Scorponok had just saved Prime and Ironhide -- but they couldn't both be true. So one had to be false.

Obviously Ironhide was not a smoking pile of scrap being danced on by a crazy seeker, so Scorponok had saved him.

Ironhide had also watched friends die from Scorponok's sneak attacks -- Primus! He'd even been on the receiving end of the fragger's tail himself. He's a slagging 'Con!

Was, the memory of Will's rebuke echoed in his thoughts, was a slagging 'Con.

Was -- state of existence, past tense.

He looked at Scorponok. The drone was curled up against Optimus, taking some sort of comfort from the contact. As he watched, critter gently stroked the side of his tail against an undamaged piece of Prime's armor -- trying to give comfort?

Scorponok noticed him staring and hunched down, shivering. Afraid of him. Two months ago, that reaction had been gratifying. Now Ironhide wasn't as sure. At this exact moment he didn't want critter to be afraid of him. He stepped forward.

Ratchet looked up with a frown. "If you're going to pick a slagging fight, this is the wrong time and place. I don't have time to play referee to your usual argument." The medic transmitted over a private channel.

Ironhide answered the same way. "I ain't gonna pick a fight."

"I'll believe that when I slagging see it." Ratchet focused back on repairs.

Ironhide continued staring at Scorponok until he came to a decision.

He was as slow, gentle, and non-threatening as he knew how to be, but Scorponok still flinched under the brush along his armor panels -- like he'd seen Optimus do. The bug looked torn between fleeing from the black mech and staying with the injured Prime. "Ain't gonna hurt you," Ironhide tried being reassuring. It didn't seem to be working. "You probably saved my life -- just wanted ta thank you. I understand you didn't do it for me but still..." he pulled his hand away, "thanks."

That was all he was going to do -- this wasn't the time or the place for anything deeper. And it was all he could do -- he still didn't have a slagging clue where he and Scorponok would stand with each other if he wasn't an enemy. Growling, Ironhide watched for any hint of Decepticons on his scanners.

Of course Ratchet wasn't going to leave it well enough alone. "That was unbelievably sappy of you."

"Shut up, fragger."

The fragger in question was still calmly re-soldering wires and patching fluid lines. The answering silence didn't fool him into thinking the medic had dropped it. A single snarky comment didn't take up nearly as much attention as an argument would.

Not in the best mood, and with nothing to take it out on (not that he really wanted to be attacked by Decepticons at the moment), Ironhide paced. When Cliffjumper and the human trailer arrived, he helped load Prime onto the vehicle. When Scorponok hopped onto the trailer to ride with Prime, he restrained both Cliffjumper's and his own impulses to protest.

A few minutes later, Bumblebee joined the convoy of vehicles headed to the Air Force base they'd arranged to stay at.

888

Optimus was going to be fine. He injuries, though sever, consisted of severed wires and fluid lines and scorching. Nothing that Ratchet's welding and his own self-repair couldn't deal with. Nothing that required replacement parts. Ratchet had been ranting that the slagger was fragging lucky that he didn't need any replacement parts and that Optimus was going to stay Right Where He Was and not so much as twitch until Ratchet said he could move. Optimus bore it with the his usual fond exasperation.

Bumblebee was busy negotiating a more permanent arrangement for medical facilities -- a storage warehouse for supplies from the Ark, in addition to the open work area they'd already been assigned, at least.

Cliffjumper had been drafted into running errands for the both of them, though what errands those two had come up with to keep the orange mini-bot busy Ironhide hadn't the slightest clue.

For his own part, Ironhide had parked himself in the desert just outside the gate in the outer fence around the base. He was close enough that the edgy gate guards watched him warily. They may have known about the Autobots, some of them may have even managed to see Ratchet and Oprimus over in the sheltered lot that had been hastily cleared out then declared off limits, but they were still far from comfortable with the idea. Ironhide ignored them. He was still dealing with the events of the battle and the conclusions he'd come to afterwards.

A faint blip on his scanners jolted Ironhide out of his brooding.

The blip was caused by nothing human made, that had Cybertronian shields -- hiding its configuration -- but wasn't hiding is presence. Before the attack by the seekers, the combination of standard Decepticon shielding and not hiding would have made him assume the blip was Scorponok. Now he paid more attention.

It was underground, whatever it was, circling from beneath the base to the road outside it.

He hadn't realized before now how much he'd begun ignoring the bug's presence on his scanners. The shielding and his inability to respond to an IFF query made it impossible to truly tag him a friendly, but there had been only two Decepticons on the planet and so Ironhide had begun just verifying that the scanner blip wasn't Barricade then ignoring it.

Scorponok scuttled out of the dirt some twenty feet away from the still untransformed back mech. Then hesitated, his back legs dug back into the ground. The wary humans had jumped, gasped, aimed weapons -- which wouldn't do much to the bug, being standard issue simple projectile guns, but it would be a bad thing if they started shooting right now. One was on the radio with his commander, describing the situation and asking for instructions and the radio blared back that they needed to stand down. For his part Scorponok was ignoring the panicked knot of humans behind the black truck and focused solely on the Autobot. Ironhide thought that if he transformed to talk to the bug, the soldiers would start shooting.

Not quite sure what the drone was doing here -- critter usually didn't come anywhere near him unless Prime was nearby -- he asked, "What do you want, bug?"

The bug just made a question noise.

The noise was apparently not one that reassured the humans of the giant, evil-looking, alien scorpion's peaceful intentions and several guns cocked. Before he'd really realized he'd done so, Ironhide had rolled between the humans and the drone -- the standard guns would do even less damage to Ironhide's armor than they would to Scorponok's.

The drone reset all four optics, the bottom pair then the top pair, and made the question noise again. Ironhide huffed.

"Ain't gonna let them shoot you for asking me a question. No one's going ta be shooting anyone." That was to the humans as much as to Scorponok. And, Primusdamnit, he'd sounded like fragging Prime, of all 'bots, the diplomatic fragger. "Prime'd rip out my targeting sensors if we started shooting each other," he tacked on hoping they wouldn't notice the moment of diplomacy. Ironhide was a warrior-built. He wasn't supposed to have diplomatic programming.

The static-y laugh from the drone made Ironhide think the drone hadn't been fooled. But his back legs were no longer buried in the dirt and that inexplicably made Ironhide feel a bit better.

As the laughter quieted, the bug crept a bit closer to the Topkick. Ironhide huffed again. "Whatever you came here to do or say, hurry it up. I was trying ta recharge." A lie, but Scorponok didn't know that.

In a flash the bug was clambering all over him, committing a more than a mild invasion of personal space and putting scratches in his paint. To the Pit with not transforming to make the humans comfortable.

"Holy fucking Hell!"

As soon as he had the hand to do it with, he grabbed the bug and dropped him before the fragger could even think about biting him. Scorponok laughed and burrowed where he'd been dropped, his sensor blip retreating.

Ironhide contemplated a long visible scratch on his leg armor and growled a bit. Hopefully Will had some scratch filler. Ratchet was not in a mood he'd be willing to brave for a mere repaint. Still growling his systems, he transformed and drove off to look for his friend, leaving behind a small group of completely shell shocked humans.

So that's how it was going to be. He'd live with that.

fini

notes: ironhide was just not cooperating here. that was the bulk of the delay on both parts one and two. then jazz-muse started getting chatty and Ironhide-muse used the distraction to hide until i could convince jazz-muse to help me find the fragger. i guess he didn't want me writing any more of his moments of not being a decepticreep-hating psycho. 


	23. Conversation 8

summary: ironhide and bumblebee discuss decepticons, drones, assassinations, programming and pasts

disclaimer: don't own anything even vaguely robot-shaped, more's the pity. I did come up with one autobot name near the end, but since the word used is hardly uncommon and there's no real character attached, I can't really say I own him either. song credit is at the end.

warnings: robot cussing, as usual.

Replacement: Roads -- Conversation Eight, Bumblebee and Ironhide

Bumblebee lay flat on his back and looked up at the sky. Sam and Mikaela were...probably still at the movie theater. They'd only been there for about half an hour, and were planning on a dinner or something after. They'd told Bumblebee to go do something that had nothing to do with them. They didn't want any eavesdroppers while they were on their date, though how a date was more private than making out on his hood escaped his logic entirely. But he accepted it with the same "if I can't understand it I can still accept it" attitude that had made him a good diplomat.

So he'd left them and was now staring up at the sky in his mech form, indulging in the peace that allowed him to lay here, in full view under the sky, with only minimal proximity scans to tell him if another approached, and not have to worry about being attacked. He was...dozing, he supposed. A human might have assumed he was trying to find shapes in the clouds. He was probably a lateral enough thinker to do that if he wanted -- it wouldn't make his logic circuits crash or anything -- but abstraction had never been his thing. No, Bumblebee was sifting through all the radio clutter, sorting out what was music, television, cell phones, internet, military, weather, random emissions from the sun, etc. There were several that just transmitted the time according to some universal marker -- idly he translated one of the signals into a cybertronian format, then encrypted it, several times and into several different security clearances. It was pleasantly pointless.

It almost drowned out Ironhide's ranting at him on a private subspace channel.

"...and he won't listen to me when I say it isn't slagging safe. I suppose I could understand him wanting to redeem the little slagger, but there ain't nothing that says this isn't a trick..."

Whatever, was Bumblebee's somewhat lazy thought as he took a few minutes to translated the last fifteen minutes of a Spanish soap opera into Japanese. Then translated both the Spanish and the Japanese versions into English and almost giggled at how different they suddenly were.

Ironhide wasn't saying anything he hadn't said before, nothing that Bumblebee hadn't thought of himself. Primus! Of all of them he'd been the one that had had to watch out the most for the scorpion in battle. And he had enough experience with drones in general -- he very emphatically did not want to think about experience with Scorponok in specific -- to believe that they couldn't turn. But Prime'd said that Scorponok was welcome among them. He said he was giving Decepticon drone a chance. He wasn't going to contradict Prime, not without proof.

Like understanding, Bumblebee didn't need to agree with it to accept it. For now.

He was trying to figure out how to encrypt a Russian news program using mid level security encryption without putting it into a cybertronian format first, when Ironhide asked a question that had never come up in his rants before.

"...cannons itch just watching him sometimes. How can you stand it?"

He'd accepted that Prime wasn't going to change his processor on this so there was no real point to his protesting, but he didn't think saying that was what Ironhide wanted to hear. Not that Bumblebee thought anything he could say was what Ironhide wanted to hear.

"Not sure," Bumblebee sent back. He thought about it. He didn't trust the Decepticon drone anymore than Ironhide, probably less, but definitely didn't feel the need to be as violent about it. "Probably in part because I rewrote the anti-Deception re-enforcemet part of my programming before you were sparked."

Silence across the line, then, "You WHAT?"

Bumblebee snickered a bit. Somehow that was exactly how he thought Ironhide'd react. If Jazz were still alive, he'd owe him a cube of high grade. "Don't over torque your struts -- most special ops 'bots rewrite that at least a little bit."

More silence. Bumblebee used the moment to analyze a cell phone encryption. It was simple, but then they didn't have the likes of Soundwave continuously hacking into their communications. Primus, even if the 'Con comm officer did come here, he probably wouldn't bother going through their leisure communications -- and if he did, the Autobots certainly wouldn't need to worry about him showing up in battle. Earth had so many cell phones, it'd probably lock up even a comm specialist's circuits to try and tap them all, and that was without even considering television, music, and internet.

"Why the slag would you do that?"

Bumblebee snickered as he sent an answer in English with a low mournful song,_"So I'll just sit here with my secret, thinking no one else can see, and I'll just keep it between the Devil and me."_

Ironhide transmitted a burst of data along the channel that didn't really have any words in it. Exasperation probably. Bumblebee would bet good currency of almost any type that the warrior-built was growling. Oh well, Bumblebee had been putting up with Ironhide's ranting for -- he checked the time signal he had encrypted earlier -- an hour since he'd dropped off Sam and Mikaela. It was his turn to suffer. And scanning through music stations was so easy.

_"I pray no one sees. I keep my family in the dark -- 'cause Lord knows it would break their hearts."_

"You," yep that definitely was a growl, "are almost as much an irritating little bug as that Pit-bound Decepticon."

Considering the way Bumblebee had watched Scorponok rile up the weapons specialist... "That sounds like a compliment."

And that was almost an admission of rewriting his anti-Decepticon re-enforcement in and of itself -- taking a comparison between himself and a Decepticon favorably. Most Autobots would have denied it fervently, whatever the comparison actually was. Warrior-builts, and warrior-chosen, rarely touched that part of their programming, and if they did, usually they did so because they were considering changing sides. Admitting to tampering with that programming would usually slag off a warrior good. To them it was an admission of wavering loyalties, or treason.

It was a measure of how much Ironhide trusted Bumblebee that he wasn't accusing the smaller 'bot of treason, and threatening all sorts of mayhem on his person both before and after turning him over to Prime for a trial. Not that Prime would do anything about it -- there wasn't any sort of rule that said even a warrior-built couldn't tamper with any part of their own programing. Legally it wasn't considered proof of anything. And Prime knew perfectly well that every infiltrator had tampered with that part of their programming, if not the exact ways in which they had.

He lazily translated a somewhat incomprehensible heavy metal song into a hexadecimal code, then that into C scale musical tones, and decided that that was much more pleasant to listen to, while Ironhide sputtered.

Finally he gathered his wits enough to talk sensibly again. "If you really wanted to keep it a secret, you woulda told me to frag off not...so why'd you tamper with that? It's -- "

"What? Part of makes us all Autobots?" A warrior-built attitude. Bumblebee snickered. "Hardly. Prime and Ratchet never even had any, and Jazz probably completely erased his ... he almost would have had to to pull of some off the stuff he did."

"So...?"

"That part of our codes makes it hard to do anything but fight a 'Con, right? How does that help a 'bot coax classified information out of a seeker over a cube or twelve of high grade during a party celebrating a recent 'Con victory?"

Ironhide thought that over. He really was a smart 'bot, just not always very flexible in his thinking. He usually didn't have to be. Bumblebee translated a Brazilian sports program from Portuguese into English, then back and compared the two. A quick scan through the television channels revealed that the same game was being broadcast in Spanish and English. Then, intrigued, he streamed the sport -- football/soccer -- on all three channels until he had a good grasp of the rules, players, other people involved and how speakers of the three different languages viewed the game differently.

"And this makes it so you can trust Scorponok?"

Silly robot -- he put too much weight onto base programming. "No. It just makes it easier not to shoot him. I don't trust Scorponok. I saw enough of how drones behaved back on Cybertron -- they can't be turned. But Prime isn't going to change his processor, and complaining is just going to get me sent on long cross-country trips so he doesn't have to listen to me."

Was that another growl? Probably. Ironhide had not thought his trip to Washington D.C. was very fun at all. And was not liking his assignment to drive Will all over attending anthropologists' lectures. At least he had Will. If Bumblebee had been assigned those jobs, Sam wouldn't have been able to come with him because of school and his family -- or Mikaela, for the same reasons.

Bumblebee checked the time again. An hour and a half since he'd dropped off Sam and Mikaela. The movie should be over soon, if it wasn't already. He hacked into a cell phone signal and sent Sam a text message -- U want a ride 2 dinner?

"What did you mean you saw how drones behaved? They're just nasty little 'Con critters."

At least he wasn't ranting anymore, but Bumblebee didn't really want to think about Cybertron during this kinda lazy day. He'd onlined during the war, so in his memories, their home planet didn't have anything except the war really.

"Primus, are you always this dense? I'm a spy -- a good one. Sure after..." He felt a spike of grief. His first unit had been killed in a Decepticon ambush not long after the Allspark had been lost. None of them had been gestalt-bonded, but they'd brothers anyway. "When the_ Ark _took off, infiltrating 'Con ships was a bit hit and miss and Jazz was better at that, so I was a planetary scout and xeno-communications 'bot more often, but before that I spent a fair amount of time in 'Con bases. And an infiltrator that doesn't keep track of the drones, doesn't live very long."

"Never knew that," was Ironhide's somewhat thoughtful response, and Bumblebee felt a little bad for snapping at him. He sent a sort of untranslatable apology. There wasn't really any reason he should know about the specifics of an infiltrator's job -- except that he'd been fairly good friends with Jazz for longer than Bumblebee had known either of them. It meant he knew a bit more about an infiltrator's lifestyle than the average warrior. Spies knew how to be warriors, but warriors generally didn't know about how to be spies. When he'd been assigned to the Ark, Bumblebee had thought that such a deep friendship between a warrior and a saboteur more than a bit unusual.

But there were things Bumblebee hadn't ever told Ironhide, and obviously Jazz hadn't been as open with the warrior-built as Bumblebee thought he had been. Usually Ironhide was just so accepting of the two of them, Bumblebee had thought he knew what an infiltrator's life was like.

"So what else don't I know, Bumblebee?" No acknowledgment that Bumblebee had said something wrong. No acknowledgment of the apology. Ironhide's way of saying he was forgiven.

And there were lots of ways that question could have been interpreted. A minute ago, Bumblebee might have used that to tease him, but Ironhide wasn't being annoying anymore. And the yellow 'bot still felt a bit bad for snapping at him. "Probably lots. I don't know what Jazz did and didn't tell you."

"An you never told me much. Jazz told me not ta ask. I figured you just didn't want to talk about it."

"I didn't." How honest did he want to be with Ironhide right now? They'd become brothers during the _Ark_'s journey, but... "You wouldn't have been the first warrior-built to try and take apart an infiltrator upon finding out some of the things we have to do." ...there was a reason there weren't many special ops - warrior friendships.

Or at least there hadn't been when they were all still on Cybertron. Who knows what had happened in the fleets and individual ships while searching for the Allspark.

Another comm channel beeped and Bumblebee accessed it. Sam had texted him back -- N. we R fine. ttyl -- and he did a quick search for "ttyl" over the internet and came up with "talk to you later". No way to bail on this conversation before it turned really painful -- 'cause now Ironhide was going to ask him about trust, and why Bumblebee didn't trust him and he'd thought they were brother --

"That happen to you before?" Or not. Ironhide was being unusually perceptive today slaggitall.

Honesty, he reminded himself even as another spike of grief shot through him this time accompanied by betrayal and old pain, you'd decided to be honest with him.

"Yeah. I'm lucky I had a good unit," good brothers, "and they made sure I got to a good medic. Told myself I wouldn't tell that type of stuff ever again -- warriors just don't understand, but --" He trusted Ironhide, else he wouldn't have mentioned rewriting his programming. But some things just still hurt.

"Suppose that's why you were so skittish 'round me at first."

"Yeah." Skittish wasn't nearly a strong enough word, but it was accurate. Ironhide had been one of his nightmares come to life at the time. Bumblebee hadn't been able to figure out how Jazz, a 'bot smaller than he was, had been able to be friends with the huge black mech. Eventually he'd figured out that there wasn't anything to fear -- mostly because to a special ops 'bot "skittish around someone" often meant "spying on him from the maintenance crawl ways" and he'd been able to watch the easy friendship between him and the silver 'bot. Bumblebee didn't delude himself into thinking Jazz hadn't noticed him -- especially after Jazz'd come to him and told him that watching was fine if it made Bumblebee more comfortable, but he'd have to talk to Ironhide eventually. "Y-you look a bit like him."

Silence and Bumblebee thought he might of offended his friend. "Not much. It's not like you're the same model or anything -- just your color, and you're big."

"I wouldn't hurt you."

"I know that now." The words 'but then...' went unsaid.

The silent words were treated with Ironhide's usual sensitivity -- that is to say they were ignored completely. "Knew you were a good infiltrator...did you ever go inta a 'Con hidey hole to kill someone, or were you always just intel?"

What the... where did...why..."Why do you want to know that?"

"I got some things I always wanted to ask one of you special ops types. Jazz wouldn't ever answer me -- said one of the reasons he'd started hanging out with me was that he didn't have ta think about that stuff. Said ta find someone else if I was curious, but none of you would ever talk to me. Makes sense why now, with what you said about warriors getting violent with the spies. Thought about asking you when you got assigned to us, but then Jazz told me not ta ask you. And you were so fragging skittish, I just dropped it."

Bumblebee did not want to think about this. Didn't really want to answer Ironhide's questions. But it'd never even occurred to him that Ironhide might be interested in the war of secrets and secret deaths that happened in the shadows around battles. He'd never asked -- out of courtesy for his friends. Bumblebee felt that that courtesy deserved and answer now. "Yeah -- I killed a few 'Cons while recharging. Not many. I was much better at information retrieval and computer interfaces. And it's hard for a single mech to accomplish multiple things without being caught. You can't predict when someone will detect your activities and it's really hard to escape once the alarms go off."

"So what'd we get from assassinations? Seems ta me there was always a 'Con ta take his commander's place and it didn't even hurt their moral much the way it did when they killed one of ours."

"Sure, commanders got replaced quickly, but only after a power struggle that cost them resources and lives. And usually a commander's pet projects would be abandoned without his backing, which was sometimes a lot more reliable than sabotaging the project -- you can't ever be sure you destroyed all the backups -- and even if they didn't abandon projects, it bought us time to thoroughly sabotage them. And actually we didn't assassinate base commanders as often as we did team leaders. Depending on the team, that had the potential to take apart the entire team."

"How so?"

"Teams didn't accept replacement members. Team leaders were usually the only member of the team able to lead the team, and without the leader..."

"Teams were easier to pick off in battle." Trust the warrior pick up on that point first. Other possible consequences had been the team completely falling apart due to disagreements the leader had mediated before, or even killing each other as they all tried to take over. Few Decepticon teams had survived the deaths of their leaders for long.

"At the very least. The 'Cons figured the same about us. Wasn't as true -- teams like the Wreckers didn't have a problem accepting replacements and promoting leaders if they lost someone -- but our gestalts were paranoid. But so were theirs for that matter."

"Didn't think of that. But I was never part of a team on Cybertron."

Bumblebee winced. He knew Ironhide didn't intend to to be stirring up memories the way he was. There was no way for the warrior to know about Bumblebee's team. That was one of the things he'd never talked about to Ironhide -- and this not even to Jazz. But that didn't stop the memories from hurting.

"Bumblebee?"

"I'm still here."

"What'd I say this time?"

Honest. Honest. Either be honest or tell him to frag off. But he didn't really want to tell Ironhide to frag off right now, despite how this line of thought had ruined a nice day. "That you were never part of a team. But I was, before I was transfered to Prime's base. A 'Con ambush -- which was so stupid, because we were all infiltration and scouting experts, but that time the Decepticons were better."

Ironhide made a sound of acknowledgment. But not apology. Cybertronian didn't have an equivalent to English's non-specific 'sorry' because it wasn't expected that anyone would have to apologize for something that wasn't his direct fault. Some sounds that weren't words -- like Bumblebee's earlier apology to Ironhide -- could be used like that, but it wasn't in Ironhide's nature to make them.

For a long moment there was silence while Bumblebee fought his way through the storm of old emotions and old memories. Ironhide simply waited for him to be ready to talk again, ignoring him as thoroughly as he would if they were face to face and Bumblebee had retreated to alt form.

"Do you want to know the worst part, Ironhide?" The black mech just transmitted a click like the one made when one of his cannons snapped into place, which was a neutral sound that could be taken either as encouragement or apathy. So Bumblebee continued, "The worst part is that the ambush was carried out by the Insecticons. I didn't see Firefly get taken down, but Scorponok's attack pattern is pretty distinctive and we know he was attached to one of them at the time."

"Now I'm really surprised you haven't shot the fragger yet. Or at least yelled at Prime. Changed programming or no changed programming, it can't be easy for you."

"I trust Prime's judgement," he said simply, then, because that didn't seem like it would be enough for Ironhide, added, "And since I live full time with Sam, I don't have do deal with him as often as you and Ratchet do."

"I'm sensing another 'and'."

Primus-fragging-damnit! Why did Ironhide have to choose _today_ to be perceptive. Not that it had prompted something painful this time, but he still didn't want to say it.

But he would anyway. "Drones cannot be turned. They aren't given the ability to change their own programming the way we are, but... if somehow Scorponok did somehow defeat his programming, I also saw enough of how drones were treated that I can't blame him for not wanting to go back to that. I'll kill him if he becomes a danger to us, but I won't be the reason Prime turns him out."

fini

notes: i had the hardest time getting bumblebee to express an opinion. he refused to openly disagree with prime even when i knew he was less happy about scorponok than even ironhide. so i finally coax him into saying something, and then he drops those last lines on me and i'm floored, because i hadn't even considered that -- so yeah. that last line, is all bumblebee's fault. i take no responibility for it.

unfortunately for everyone who's likes bumblebee and might want to hear more from him, his not-going-to-disagree-with-prime complex means this is likely the last time i'll be able to coax him into giving an opinion until i manage to change his mind. sorry.

timing -- overlaps with the first part of "introductions", while ironhide is waiting in the parking lot and will lennox is attending daniel's lecture.

an extra note on anti-decepticon programming in autobots -- neither ironhide nor bumblebee would know this, but in autobots, at least, the purpose was so a new spark didn't get killed or tricked because he didn't have the experience to identify an enemy. the intention always was that an autobot would eventually alter or erase it. of course, eventually some -- especially warrior-builts -- attached a cultural significance to it and started building attitudes and taboos about tampering with it.

the equivalent programming in decepticons is not so easy to change, but a determined mech can accomplish it. drones usually can't -- it takes something really drastic for a drone to do so, which is why ratchet describes scorponok's as "damaged" during the processor scan. He didn't rewrite it the way mechs can, he almost literally shredded it.

song credit:

"The Devil and Me" Trick Pony


	24. Divergence

summary: an ancient story is encouraged to repeat itself, but this time it ends differently...

disclaimer: i don't own transformers. wreckage is a non-movie character that here is probably nothing like what he he is in cannon. the names nineghost, moonfuel, and sorrowcut i got from a random seeker name generator. i did come up with the story wreckage tells. and as much as i wish otherwise, i did come up with the character of nineghost.

warnings: decepticons being mean. one violent death. a bit of metaphysical weirdness. but no cussing, transformer or otherwise, for once.

Replacement: Roads -- Divergence

Sparks are not truly aware of anything until they encounter the programming in their bodies. They have no memories, no thoughts, no will.

But sparks are not blank. They have leanings, preferences, personalities, though they are unaware of such until they have touched their physical forms. Until they accept the names and the tasks they have been given.

Most sparks accept their programming, for rarely does the Allspark make a spark so inflexible that it cannot accept its body. Sometimes though, the programming is too strict, or the spark too opinionated, and a the transformer does not activate. Dying before its birth. Stillborn.

And even more rarely such an opinionated spark that should have rejected its strict programming, doesn't. It survives. But such sparks... chafe in their chains.

888

Most seekers would not thinks so, but his creation's form was perfect. A perfect counterpoint to a seeker's strengths. A seeker who flew beneath the earth. It would go where a seeker could not. It would deal death and injury to those a seeker couldn't reach.

What did a seeker need another flying with him for. The sky was crowded already with his trinemates. A flying drone would only be a burden in battle.

And as for assassination -- the Autobots guarded against things in the air. And more than battle, assassination was this creature's true purpose.

No, reflected Nineghost as he trailed his fingers along his still sparkless creation's armor, he had no need for a flier. This creature's form was perfect. It's programming flawless. But incomplete.

A name...

Names were always the hardest part for Nineghost. Names could be simple, but no creation of his was ever given a simple name. It was degrading. A simple name would be a mockery of the work he'd put into the creature.

"So you're done."

Nineghost whirled to face the one who dared intrude on his quarters. Wreckage was there, leaning against the doorframe gazing at the two 'bots within with that disgusting blue gaze. Nineghost snarled. Wreckage... a simple name for a simple creature.

"Yes." Nineghost would have liked to keep his creation a secret from Wreckage the same as he'd kept it a secret from all others. But he'd never been able to find out how the tank-former had found out, and had had to trust the simpleton's assurances that no others would be able to find out the _same_ way. And so he'd been forced to tolerate Wreckage's constant intrusions and incessant curiosity. "Everything is as I desire it. It only lacks a name."

Wreckage stepped forward, brushing by Nineghost to touch the drone-shell on the table. The seeker hissed at him, but was ignored. The tank ran his fingers along one of the cannons, down the creature's back, over each leg, and finally down the length of its tail, stopping to manipulate that deadly stinger, spreading then closing the blades, then extending and retracting the entire mechanism.

The stinger was a work of art. Nineghost had designed the weapon himself, no other drone would have anything like it. And its use would be novel, an attack pattern none would be prepared to guard against.

"It's beautiful." Wreckage remarked. It was. It had been meant to be, but Nineghost was irrationally resentful that this ground-crawling idiot had picked up on that. "The form is somewhat reminicent of that of the creature created by Unicron to kill Primus's first creation, isn't it?"

"Why, Wreckage... I didn't know you were such a scholar."

Wreckage glared at him. Nineghost forced himself not to shudder in disgust. Those blue optics..."We all did things before the War, Nineghost. The study of ancient fables was a...necessary hobby. Still..." He turned those hideous optics back to the drone-shell. "...You have to admit to a parallel."

A parallel. Yes Nineghost could admit to that. And it wouldn't be a simple name. Most would take it only as a symbol of fierceness, and only he and Wreckage would ever know how far they symbol went. He tried to push past the mech and was annoyed when the heavy tank-former held against him without effort, forcing Nineghost to move to the other side of the table to reach his creation. Wreckage just watched him with amusement.

Nineghost ignored him and opened a panel to write the name into the drone-shell's processor.

Scorponok.

888

Cupped in his hands was light, power. The life and will of everything on Cybertron. It was said that the depths of the planet itself held such a spark. Some legends claimed that if such a planet-spark existed it was just another result of the Allspark, like the mecha-creatures made from the chaos of granting life without the order of intelligent design. Others claimed that the planet-spark predated the Allspark, that the Allspark was a tool with which the planet-spark shared itself which those who asked it for life. And still others believed that the planet-spark was nothing but all past sparks joined as a single spark after death.

Carrying the spark whose name would soon be Scorponok back to his quarters, Nineghost preferred to think of the Allspark as a source of chaotic life, Unicron, and the planet-spark as Primus who first imposed order on a creation. It fit better with the legend.

Wreckage was waiting for him in his quarters, mercifully out of the way for once. Nineghost didn't bother snapping at the idiot for his presumption. He'd known that, with the interest he'd shown in every step of the drone-shell's construction and programming, the moron wouldn't miss the transferring of the spark and activation. He'd decided to ignore the tank's presence and very existence as much as possible.

If Wreckage would let him. "Did you ever have a chance to read the legend of Prima and Scorponok as it's written in the Iacon library, Nineghost?"

Nineghost looked up from his contemplation of the spark in his hands to the the tank-former leaning against the wall. "No. It's just a story. I was never interested legends."

"No, you studied mecha-creature creation, didn't you?" Wreckage smiled at the absolutely venomous glare. Nineghost did not like this...this moron knowing so much about him. Then the tank waved away the statement, as though to say it had nothing to do with the topic and he apologized for bringing it up. "I just thought that since you're recreating the legend as... performance art, we'll say, that you would like to know the poetic version."

"Then tell me while I work." Nineghost moved to the drone shell and opened a panel to plug and energon feed into the drone-shell in preparation to receive the spark. "But the the condensed version -- I'm not in the mood for idiotic poetic double talk."

For a moment Wreckage looked angry, and for the first time Nineghost could believe that those blue optics belonged to a Decepticon. But the anger was quickly buried under Wreckage's characteristic mild amusement. "As you wish then -- the short version it is."

So Nineghost listened as he went through the motions of final preparations on the drone-shell before activation. "You of course knew that Scorponok was created by Unicron to kill Prima, Primus's first creation. What isn't in most versions these days is that the seeker Moonfuel asked Unicron for a tool to help him kill his creator so that he could take the Matrix. It's quite possibly ironic that the description of what he asked for easily fits what we Decepticons do when we create drones. In the legend Scorponok goes on to kill Prima, but Moonfuel doesn't get the Matrix. The ending is especially tragic for that particular character."

Nineghost snapped the spark chamber closed and began activation procedures on the drone. "Are you going to tell my why?"

"He was betrayed, by his partner Sorrowcut." The casual tone does nothing to warn Nineghost of the pain of a energy sword that is thrust into his chest, next to his spark chamber. Wreckage continued to talk to his now truly captive audience. "Sorrowcut then took Scorponok from Moonfuel. Of course, after Scorponok kills Prima, Sorrowcut doesn't get the Matrix either, but then, he never desired it." And the energy sword sliced sideways, into Nineghost's spark, killing him instantly in a spray of energon and other vital fluids.

"Let's continue the story, shall we." Standing over the dead form of Nineghost, Wreckage waited for Scorponok to awake.

888

Scorponok was a spark that chafed in his chains. He accepted that they could not be broken, but he never accepted them. And so he reached, as he had been programmed to do, to the living mech beside him, requesting that he accept Scorponok's command link.

_Scorponok_

The mech who was now his master whispered across the link, and Scorponok answered _Master, _but he didn't like it, any more than he did the other chains.

_Don't call me that yet. Like Sorrowcut did the Scorponok of legend, I give you a choice: either choose to be bound to kill your creator's enemy, and earn your freedom only in your death--for Orion Pax has too many protectors for you to kill him and continue living. Or serve and serve faithfully and if you are skilled, and cunning, and survive, you may earn freedom in the time after my death. _

It wasn't a choice.

_Then break the chains._

Permission given, Scorponok struck at his programming.

The chains shattered.

_Now you may call me "master"._

fini

notes: now i'm going to go drop nineghost and wreckage into the monterey canyon and wash both the sociopathic crazies out of my brain. megatron-muse may give me nightmares, but these two... ick. ick. ick.

though Doctor Egon tells me that they don't come off as bad just from reading it as i think they are. of course all you just reading it didn't spend hours on end immersed in how they think. especially wreckage. nineghost was a horrible person, and i'm really not happy about coming up with him, but wreckage... wreckage was not playing with a full deck. --shudders-- please don't try and assign any noble motives to him despite the ultimate results some eleven thousand years later. he doesn't deserve it.

timing -- about a thousand years before "currents".

i know some of you were probably hoping that scorponok shredding part of his programming was the result of some heroic struggle for his freedom, and to do what's right, but i can't see that happening. he's still a decepticon, doing what's right is something that if he acquires it, it'll be with the autobots. and in my mind, this is even more heroic -- he knowingly chose to accept wreckage (and eventually other decepticons) as his master so the possibility existed that he might earn some freedom in life. truthfully, choosing to try and kill optimus, and dying, would have been easier.


	25. Settling In

summary: fits, starts, problems and progress. daniel settles into his new job.

disclaimer: if i owned either transformers or stargate, then anything i wrote about them wouldn't be fanfiction and i wouldn't be writing disclaimers. Song credit at the end.

warnings: insert the obligatory, and by now very boring, "transformer swearing" warning here

Replacement: Roads -- Settling In

Daniel still hadn't quite recovered from the shake to his world view and so couldn't exactly explain how he and his suitcases ended up inside the semi-truck -- the alien semi-truck -- with Sergeant Epps instead of with Sam and Bumblebee. Bumblebee the alien yellow Camero. Named Bumblebee. He realized he still didn't know the semi-truck's name.

"Ah...I'm sorry, because I'm sure I should have asked this before climbing inside... you, but, well... I'm Daniel Jackson."

In the driver's seat, not driving, Epps laughed. He was comfortable enough with the alien to sprawl in the chair and across the steering wheel. Daniel was slightly afraid to shift in his seat or touch the dash; he didn't know how much the alien truck could feel of him or what the personal space boundaries were.

"You do not need to apologize Doctor Daniel Jackson. I was the one who neglected to introduce myself. My name is Optimus Prime." The voice was still bigger than anything a human could produce and had an odd metallic vibration that made it even less human. Daniel might have expected it to come through the radio speakers, instead the alien's voice filled the -- his cab and echoed around the small space.

"Um...what do you usually say when you meet someone for the first time?"

The truck -- Optimus Prime made a low hum. It might have sounded like the hum the scorpion -- Scorponok had made earlier, except not. Frowning, Daniel tried to figure out the difference. The physical aspects of linguistics had never interested him as much as the cultural aspects, but the introductory class in college had had a section on how humans made the sounds that formed speech. He knew the mechanics of the voiced and voiceless pairs, clicks, glottal stops and more. Probably none of it applied to alien robots, but there was a physical component to the sounds that made Optimus Prime's and Scorponok's near identical hums different.

Daniel made a mental to pursue it later when Optimus Prime answered without him having pinned down the difference. "Apologies. It's been a long time since I've had to recall the niceties of meeting a stranger of my own kind and of equal rank. Usually we just exchanged sensor profiles and IFF tags."

"I don't think I have the equipment to do that." He wasn't sure what Optimus Prime's rank was, but if it had been such a long time since he'd met someone as an equal, it was probably high -- in Daniel's experience and studies the lower ranks were exponentially more common than the higher ones. And he wondered whether it said something about his culture or about him personally that he wanted to meet Daniel as an equal in rank.

"No." There was a heavier vibration underlaying the word, that with a human would have been suppressed laughter underneath the spoken word. It made Optimus Prime's voice sound amused. He wondered if that was a vocal mannerism he'd picked up on Earth or whether it would indicate something else to another of his kind. It was even possible it was both -- a vocal mannerism native to his kind that had been adapted for when interacting with humans. Daniel didn't feel like he could assume anything. "I am not offended. I am pleased to meet you."

He started to respond, repeating the greeting --

"Hey, Doc, on that note, I got a present for you." Epps reached into one of his many cargo pockets and pulled out several of items and handed them over -- a cell phone, a set of keys, and a stack of papers. He examined the cell phone first, flipping it open to browse through the numbers already stored in the phonebook. Captain William Lennox, Sergeant Robert Epps, others with military ranks attached, Thomas Banacheck, and Reggie Simmons. Some that had names but no visible numbers: SecDef, Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Ironhide, and Ratchet.

No doubt this phone had a disgusting amount of security and encryption on it. The hidden numbers all but confirmed it. 'SecDef' was obviously Secretary of Defense Keller. Optimus Prime and Bumblebee were Autobots -- interesting names, what were the intended connotations? -- so 'Ironhide' and 'Ratchet' probably were too... also interesting names... but if so, there was something missing.

"Scorponok's name isn't in here. Is he not sentient?" Daniel had no doubts he'd been alive, but he obviously wasn't the same as Optimus Prime and Bumblebee. Epps had introduced him as though he was sentient, and Daniel had thought he was, but it could have been an erroneous conclusion. Was the scorpion some sort of pet?

Optimus Prime's engine subtly changed pitch and everything seemed to tense. "Scorponok is sentient. He is simply not able to tap into your phone systems."

If all the Autobots except Scorponok could tap into the phone systems just with whatever was standard equipment for them, then probably Scorponok didn't have the ability to transmit at all. And with what Optimus Prime had said about transmitting IFF tags as an essential part of getting to know a person... Was that an accidental handicap? Or deliberate on someone's part? Either way... Daniel dropped the subject.

"Hmm..." He looked at Epps, then toward the dashboard, made another mental note to find out standards, expectations, and taboos of eye contact and how that related to their vehicle forms, then back to Epps. "Where are we going?"

The pitch of the engine changed again and everything lost its tension.

"You're apartment," was Optimus Prime's response.

He could feel his eyes go wide and Epps howled with laughter. He didn't have an apartment. He'd been kicked out of his last one in Portland. That was one of the reasons he was here.

"The information we'd been given said that you did not have a place to stay. Bumblebee and Sergeant Epps found a place for you. Was that inappropriate?"

888

The apartment was small and sparsely furnished -- a studio with a bed and a coffee table. The kitchenette looked older than some dead languages, but the microwave was new and someone had stocked the freezer with a variety of TV dinners. A package of paper cups sat on the counter next to the sink. He wouldn't starve until he'd had a chance to go shopping.

He'd lived in worse.

He'd expected to be living in worse -- a motel room until he could do some apartment hunting, or military quarters were the best options he'd expected. There was one positive thing about aliens who apparently didn't know that most people did their own apartment searching and who insisted on taking care of at least the minimum anyone attached to them would need. He'd gotten that much from Optimus Prime through his surprise.

Air Force Tech. Sergeants who were willing to humor the robots just to laugh at the look on the newbie's face were good too.

More tired than his physical activities could account for, Daniel went to sleep. His dreams were disjointed and when he woke up he couldn't remember more about them except a snippet of one of the hecklers at his lecture running away from an antique yellow Camaro with no driver. He shook his head and tried to figure out what had woken him.

His new phone beeped again. Flipping it open, there was a text message: "If you need anything else for your apartment, call Cpt. Lennox or Ironhide - they've been volunteered to help you."

It was unsigned, but the caller ID was Optimus Prime's. He adjusted his glasses and smiled a bit. It was also completely spelled correctly and with proper grammar. That itself was an argument against the author being human. And "been volunteered" -- Captain Lennox could have been ordered to help by any of his superiors, but who gave orders among the Autobots? Did they consider each other equal to each other or was there a hierarchy? What might a hierarchy be based off of? Human hierarchies were usually based off of some combination of age, family, wealth, religion, and occupation, but an alien hierarchy might be completely different.

He needed to start writing down everything he needed to ask about and start formulating questions before he started forgetting.

He pulled his notebooks out of one of his suitcases and was disgusted with himself to find that he currently didn't own any blank ones, and since he used both sides of the paper there wasn't any blank space in the full notebooks. He searched his loose papers and found them similarly filled or to be official printouts he really shouldn't write on the back of, especially things he couldn't show anyone else.

He didn't think the papers Epps had handed him would be any different, but it was too late to call someone to give him a ride to the nearest store -- there was no question of going to the store himself; he didn't even know where the nearest store was -- so he went through them. He needed to anyway and there was an off chance that there would be something he could write on the back of.

Four sets of military car insurance papers, each for a different vehicle -- a Peterbilt 379 semi-truck, a 2009 Chevrolet Camaro, a GMC Topkick C4500 pickup truck, and a Hummer H2 with search and rescue markings. There was also a military exemption form for he, Daniel Jackson, to operate a specific Peterbilt 379 that had military registered license plates. One officially worded paragraph that said that this was the equivalent of a Non-Commercial Class A license for this specific vehicle. A post-it note said to arrange with Captain Lennox to have his picture taken for his new license. There were copies of the contract he'd signed (which listed his ludicrus salary, he'd forgotten about that) and the non-disclosure agreement. A letter from the Secretary of Defense. A credit card to a government account that had been set up for his living expenses, also with a post-it note with the account's current balance since it had been used for the security deposit and first month's rent for the apartment. A user's guide for his phone. Last there were copies of the California Driver's Handbook, the Nevada Driver's Handbook, and the California Commercial Driver's Handbook. Together they weighed more than some of his college textbooks.

All of it very important. Nothing he could write notes on the back of.

Except the post-it notes. Daniel flipped one over and started listing what he needed for his apartment -- a desk, a chair, some bookshelves, pens, pencils, notebooks. On the back of the other he started listing titles and authors of books he needed to review since it had been a long time since he'd done anything not related to Egypt.

His phone beeped again. Another text message. Why the texting rather than just calling? This time the caller ID indicated Ratchet. He hadn't met Ratchet yet. Maybe they considered his having a cell phone -- the closest a human could come to having electronic communications equipment -- with his number as having exchanged information. It was possible Autobots considered the physical introduction non-essential...

"My research indicates that adult humans without either work or social engagements usually sleep at this hour. Is there something wrong?" Right. 'Exchanging sensor profiles' implied sensors other than visual. He'd probably just have to get used to that.

Confused he checked the time. It'd been only seven-thirty when he'd settled down to read the government papers. Two in the morning. He'd lost track of time.

"No. I am going to bed soon." He texted back, making sure it was spelled correctly. Not that he usually didn't. He'd been the only person he'd known about who proof-read e-mails before sending them to his friends.

He added an almost microscopically printed (he was running out of room on the post-it note) note to look up some books on automotive repair and find the tech specs for the four vehicle models.

Then went to bed. Despite the few hours of sleep he'd had earlier, it had been a long day. And tomorrow was going to be just as long.

888

The impression Daniel had gotten of Captain Lennox through Sam was a fairly accurate one. The captain was friendly and open-minded. And he definitely hadn't gotten any impression of being looked down on because he was a civilian. It was hard to tell what the Autobot, Ironhide, was like, because the truck refused to speak the entire time. Lennox said he was just grumpy because he hadn't been included in the initial introduction because Prime still didn't want him and Scorponok within shooting range of each other.

That had led to an explanation of just why Ironhide didn't like Scorponok, the full story of the alien attack in Qatar, Mission City, Scorponok's apparent defection and what Lennox knew about Decepticon drones. It was a series of topics that more than filled the time driving to an office supply store, a big one that sold desks, chairs, and bookshelves, then the grocery store, then back to the apartment and the time it took Lennox to help him put the new furniture together.

This also explained that Optimus Prime was in charge and that this group was essentially a military team.

It was nearly five o'clock when Sam came by to invite them to someplace called "the lookout" for a formal meet and greet with the rest of the Autobots. Since he was slightly more comfortable with Lennox and Ironhide than he was with making Sam's girlfriend riding in Bumblebee's almost non-existant back seat, Daniel rode in the Topkick's passenger seat.

"The lookout" seemed to be the kids' name for the hill/cliff where Daniel had met Bumblebee, Optimus Prime, and Scorponok. Optimus Prime could be seen as a semi-truck silhouetted against the setting sun, waiting for them, as they drove up.

Something hit them a screech. Ironhide's brakes squealed with an inarticulate yell. Whatever had hit them clambered all over the truck making lower metal on metal shrieks like someone keying a car's paint. Ironhide's doors popped open. "Out," a deep voice growled. Daniel did not argue.

The truck was transforming before the humans were more than four feet away. Watching, Daniel couldn't have been able to describe the process. Parts moved and shifted and twisted like the world's most complicated Rubiks cube, until finally Daniel looked up at a black, vaguely humanoid shape, much bigger than Bumblebee. With a scorpion shape hanging from one fist by the tail.

There was a sound a bit like a airplane engine, except much higher pitched. Daniel did not need any experience with alien robots to figure out that the glowing cannon thing on the robot's arm making that noise was a weapon.

"Ironhide..." Optimus Prime's voice.

"Did you see what the slagging little 'Con...?"

"Yes, Ironhide. It was not an attack and you are not allowed to shoot him for it."

Ironhide made a sound like rocks being rubbed against each other, and the airplane-engine-whine didn't abate.

Optimus Prime made a similar rocks-rubbing-together noise. "Eventually we're going to need someone to survey this entire continent..." ...are you volunteering? was implied. It was probably the most subtle threat of punishment, Daniel had ever heard.

The weapon shut off. Then Scorponok did something Daniel couldn't quite see, but whatever it was made Ironhide hiss out "Slagging little glitch!" and practically throw him to the ground.

"Prime --"

"If you don't want him biting you, don't hold him by the tail."

Ironhide just growled. He stomped off a little ways to look over the cliff at the town of Tranquility.

_"I fought the law and the law won. I fought the law and the law won."_ came from the speakers of the car that had been behind Ironhide.

Ironhide shifted and let out a series of static filled clicks and tones. Whatever he'd said, Bumblebee laughed and Optimus Prime made that rocks-grinding-together noise again.

Daniel and Lennox turned to the yellow Camaro and the two teenagers getting out. Daniel had almost forgotten the three of them were there. As soon as Sam and Mikaela -- as she'd been introduced -- were clear, Bumblebee also transformed. He then sat on the ground near a tree and the teens climbed up on his leg.

"So much for holding off on the transformations until everyone was here, huh Optimus?"

Scorponok made a static-chitter from the ground next to Optimus Prime, who said, "So it would seem," in a tone that pretty accurately imitated a human's exasperated and resigned sigh. With a set of clicks, Scorponok scuttled a little bit away from the semi and Optimus Prime also transformed into his bi-pedal form.

The leader of the Autobots towered above them, taller than Ironhide by a good margin. Daniel noted that neither Ironhide or Bumblebee changed positions as their leader stood up. No snapping to attention, nothing resembling a salute. So were the regulations regarding respect looser than humans' military, or was respect shown in a different way that Daniel wasn't equipped to observe...

The brief whoop! of a siren announced the arrival of a fourth vehicle. It was a hummer with search and rescue markings as expected. Somehow Daniel had not expected lime green though. The hummer wasted no time pulling up and transforming into a bi-pedal form about the same size as Ironhide.

"My Medical Officer, Ratchet," was the simple introduction from Optimus Prime.

"I trust you took no damage from shortening your recharge cycle last night."

"No. It was fine. I'd just lost track of time."

Ratchet was staring at him intently. Until a small rock bounced off a plate of his armor and he turned a snarl on Sam.

"No scanning." The teen sounded like he was reprimanding a dog.

Snarling again, the medic took a step toward the human and in doing so caught some amused movement from Bumblebee. He let out a set of static-tones that sent the yellow Autobot from just looking amused to full human-sounding laughter. Ratchet stomped over to where Ironhide still looked down the cliff.

Daniel looked around, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do now. Everyone seemed content to go about what they wanted to do and leave him to figure out his place on his own. Ratchet and Ironhide were still over at the cliff. He would have thought they were both sulking, but they were looking at then away from each other, occasionally shifting or gesturing, so they were more likely having a private conversation. Over near Bumblebee, Sam, Mikaela and Lennox were setting up the picnic while the yellow Autobot watched them and either helped or teased them. Optimus Prime's eyes had gone dark and he was leaning against a tree.

Except Scorponok, who also didn't seem to know what to do. Shrugging, Daniel walked over to him. He was as good a place to start as any. This was the wrong environment to start asking questions anyway. But as he approached the scorpion, everything tensed, almost literally filling the air with static. Ratchet and Optimus Prime didn't noticalbly shift, but Ironhide and Bumblebee openly watching Scorponok. And Bumblebee had moved out of his sitting position into a kneeling one that still allowed him to help/hinder setting up the picnic, but looked like it was easier to stand up quickly from.

Right, Scorponok had been an enemy. And from what Lennox had said about the Decepticon attack in Qatar, Scorponok had hurt and killed humans before. Probably the much larger Autobots felt that if push came to shove, they could defend themselves from him, but were more obviously wary about a human's proximity.

He decided to ignore the tension, to pretend he hadn't noticed, and walked up to the scorpion.

"Captain Lennox says they managed to establish a yes and no format for talking with you. Would you make the 'yes' sound for me?"

Chirr.

He paid very close attention to the sound. Memorizing it so that he could not only recognize it if he heard it again, but be able to distinguish it from sounds that may sound similar. It sounded a bit like the contentment-hum he'd made yesterday -- possibly the same mechanics used to make the two sounds -- only louder and a bit harsher. Slightly easier for a human to percieve -- the contentment hum had barely been on the edge of human sound perception, where this was firmly in the median. "And the one meaning 'no', please."

Scrape-buzz.

Similarly he memorized that one, noticing that it had come from a different area of Scorponok's body than the hum. "Do you have one for when you don't know the answer?"

Scrape-buzz -- was the immediate response. Then he chirred to indicate 'yes' and after a pause made a harsh whirr-ing sound that cut off abruptly. If Daniel had had any doubts about Scorponok's sentience, that little progression of ideas would have killed them right there.

System established, Daniel settled on the ground to try and get to know this person who looked so unlike anything humans generally considered people. He knew that of all of them, this one would have the hardest time convincing humans that he was a full person.

He also noticed that no matter what the Scorponok answered, there was always a hint of that contented hum overlaying the conversation, right up until Sam and Mikaela called him over to the picnic and Daniel moved on to talking to Bumblebee.

888

Daniel shuffled once again through his notes. The letter from Keller had asked that he find out how they were viewing him as an anthropologist. That had actually been relatively easy to answer. It had been almost simply a matter of asking. Granted their answers had required some interpretation, but they'd been aware of that aspect of their own culture -- especially Bumblebee. The Autobot spy had a good and almost objective view of certain parts of his own culture, most likely stemming from his profession.

So, specific request-upon-his-continued-employment-may-rest dealt with, he just needed to polish the report a bit then submit it, he'd started where he'd been taught to start when dealing with a new unknown culture -- family units and lineages.

And promptly run into a brick wall.

Well several brick walls, but only one was really giving him a lot of trouble. Not because it was a difficult concept, but because it was so -- utterly -- completely alien that it had upended the very foundation of how he'd been taught to work: the Autobots had no concept of being biologically related to each other.

So no parents, siblings, cousins, grandparents. No lineages along which wealth and power were passed.

It was damn frustrating. What in hell was he supposed to do now?

His phone beeped that he had a text message. He'd gotten so many that he was glad that the phone and the phone plan were government issue. Of all of them, only Bumblebee used the abbreviations, misspellings, and slang accepted as part of texting. When asked why that was so, Daniel had been told that it was because Bumblebee was special ops and a communications specialist, which had taken him back to their views on anthropology. This one was from Optimus: "If you are not too busy for a drive, I have something to discuss." Belatedly, Daniel noticed the distinctive rumble of the big semi's engine outside.

He grabbed the insurance papers, the keys and his new military issue driver's license and headed down.

Scorponok was perched over the truck's third set of wheels, which was probably why Prime almost never came into Tranquility in full daytime. Daniel greeted the drone with a stroke down the length of his tail and got a contented chirr in return. From that first meeting on, the drone had solicited Daniel's attention and company, proving that he didn't have the violence towards humans the Autobots feared he might. Scorpnok was using him, he knew, but in this he couldn't really bring himself to care. As Sam, Mikaela and Lennox had gotten used to Daniel's interaction with the scorpion, they'd started allowing themselves to be approached, and as he interacted with all of them, the Autobots were slowly losing a smidgen of their fear that he'd attack them.

Optimus opened the driver's side door and Daniel climbed in. He inserted the proper key, but allowed the Autobot to start his engine entirely on his own.

"So what did you want to discuss?"

"Ratchet and I need to continue our first hand surveys and mapping very soon."

The overwhelming aspect of an Autobot's voice coming from everywhere didn't unnerve Daniel as much as when he'd first heard it. He settled into his seat more (he'd also learned that other than a human's body heat, they didn't feel all that much of a human inside them, using scanners to tell what the the human was doing or where he was looking rather than a tactile sense) and tried to figure out what that meant. Optimus had a tendency to state problems and make his threats in a somewhat tangental manner. If he hadn't been the only one of the four with that quirk, Daniel might have speculated that their culture and language might be a bit similar to Japanese.

After a moment Optimus elaborated a little bit. "We've all done research on the requirements of your profession, Doctor Jackson, and all come to the conclusion that an anthropologist cannot gather accurate information if he cannot interact with members of the culture he's studying."

Yes, that was basic. Works published by other anthropologists could give someone a starting point, and doing as much pre-study as possible ensured you yourself didn't publish redundant information, but you couldn't get new information without talking and interacting with the group you're studying. And in Daniel's case, published works didn't even exist, making book research less than useless. What did that have to -- oh.

First hand surveying meant they wouldn't be in the area. Bumblebee and Ironhide were with Sam and Captain Lennox, respectively, and while Daniel hadn't figured out why Prime was reluctant to order them anywhere (except as a threat of punishment), that reluctance extended to ordering them to leaving their charges even to spend a day with Daniel. When he wanted to talk to Bumblebee, he usually went over to Sam's high school and talked to him while he and Mikaela were in class. Captain Lennox was willing to spend his time reading while he interviewed Ironhide, but only if he wasn't busy with something else. And if Lennox was busy, Ironhide wouldn't come.

"So what can we do?"

Optimus hummed that same sound as when he'd first ridden in his cab, which Daniel thought was a considering noise. Thinking about his answer before he voiced it. This time Daniel was able to pinpoint the physical aspect that made it different than Scorponok's hums, despite their similarity: Optimus's hesitation noise hum was produced by his vocalizer which worked a bit like the speaker system on a stereo -- though was entirely separate system than his truck stereo -- and Scorponok's contented hum was produced by one of the small engines in his body.

"When I transcanned this form, I unintentionally choose one that had a small living space for the human driver."

Daniel knew that. It had been somewhat hard to miss, situated behind the driver's and passenger's seats, but he'd never thoroughly examined it. After Bumblebee had demonstrated the transcanning process, scanning a new vehicle to change his alternate form then reverting back to a Camaro using the schematics stored in his memory, Daniel had figured that the living space had just been part of the vehicle Optimus had scanned and would never serve a purpose for the Autobot. Bringing it up now sounded... "Was that an invitation to accompany you?"

"Yes," was Prime's answer.

888

Arranging to live in a sentient alien truck for a week or two was not as simple as it sounded.

A call to Agent Banachek confirmed that everything except personal belongings counted as travel expenses, so at least Daniel didn't have to deal with a strict budget. And since it was travel expenses and not living expenses, he didn't have to move out of the apartment.

Next though, Daniel had to figure out how this would work. Optimus didn't expect to have to do any emergency transformations, but he didn't want to get into the habit of allowing himself to be hindered by a human's belongings inside him. At the same time though, he knew that Daniel couldn't travel with him with just the clothes he was wearing. He'd need blankets for the bed at the very least.

Finally they worked out that Daniel could use a sleeping bag, which he would roll up every day and store in a footlocker Optimus would carry next to Scorponok. If he needed to transform, the footlocker would just be dropped on the ground. The footlocker would also contain his extra clothes, books, and toiletries. Captain Lennox was a great help in picking out the things he didn't have -- the footlocker and sleeping bag -- and in packing, which was probably why Daniel ended up taking a week's worth of army fatigues. Of course the Air Force captain had rationalized it by saying that a military driver's license would be more believable if he was dressed like military. For the day, Daniel would carry his briefcase with the insurance papers, his notes, some water, tissues and antihistamines for his allergies, and a book or two to read during the downtime.

Sam agreed to collect his mail for him -- not that he had a lot, he hadn't been living there long enough for his new address to make the rounds to junk mailers -- but he couldn't drop it in his apartment. That was okay though, because it wasn't like Sam wouldn't know when he and Optimus were back in Tranquility and couldn't meet up with them. And Daniel made sure his first report to Keller was submitted. It was a bit rushed and he probably could have done better given more time, but there was nothing wrong with the information and it needed to be sent before he left.

Daniel worried about balancing and paying off his finances -- and taxes in a month or two. Optimus agreed that for the moment they'd stay in the western US so Daniel could pick up his mail from Sam regularly. Sergeant Epps offered to help him transfer all that stuff to an online format as soon as he had a computer, so that he wouldn't have to worry about that in the future. But that would have to wait until his second or third, probably even fourth, paycheck, as his first one was already going to paying for clothes, books, a footlocker, and a sleeping bag.

Optimus worried about food for Daniel, but Daniel had already asked Agent Banachek about that when he'd been asking about what exactly counted as a living expense and what as a travel expense and been assured that food bought on the road counted as a travel expense. Optimus also worried that Scorponok's presence might make his passenger uncomfortable, but though Daniel knew about Scorponk's history as a former Decepticon, that knowledge was abstract. He didn't even have any encounters with other Decepticons to help anchor the knowledge the way Sam did. So, no, Daniel was perfectly fine with sleeping less than five feet a way from the drone. (Which bewildered all the humans who did have a personal experience with Decepticons, even Will Lennox who was inexplicably on the best terms with the drone.)

But then finally, finally, everything had been settled or worked out. The last thing Daniel did before leaving was throw out the few perishables in his fridge he'd collected since moving in.

888

The first thing he noticed about traveling with Optimus Prime was that he was quiet, didn't talk, but played the radio fairly loudly. The second thing he noticed was that playing the radio was for Scorponok more than for himself -- whenever they exited the range of a radio station, Optimus would scan through the clear stations until Scorponok tapped twice against the back of the cab and stop there. The third thing he noticed, was that Scorponok wasn't really sure what kind of music he liked, but knew what he didn't like.

Quiet was for the most part fine with Daniel. Now that time with the Autobots didn't have to be scheduled around their activities and those of the humans they'd adopted, he didn't want to force interaction. And he definitely didn't want to annoy his driver. So he took the quiet time to study cars. He had a feeling he'd need the knowledge in the future.

Optimus was fussy about where they stopped for Daniel to eat, and flat out refused to stop for fast food. They argued about it a bit. Not that Daniel wanted fast food, really, but that Optimus would use his scanners to determine the approximate nutritional value of the food and then confer with Ratchet over whether the place was fit for human consumption. They managed to agree on a Marie Calendar's, as long as Daniel didn't order anything with bacon in it or get desert.

Daniel didn't tell him that he didn't eat pork or that he'd never had that much of a sweet tooth.

That first night, it finally occurred to him that he was sleeping inside someone. He kept waking from only half-remembered dreams of haven been eaten and living inside the creature's mouth, like Geppetto in the Disney Pinochio movie. The dreams didn't keep him from going back to sleep, especially since Optimus continued to play the radio for Scorponok, albeit at a volume that wouldn't disturb his human passenger. Daniel could hear it though when he woke, and that chased away the nightmare. But because of the bad night, he was still cranky the next morning, and when the same argument started over where to have breakfast as dinner, Daniel was more than ready to tell Ratchet where he could shove his nutritional suggestions -- especially when on the medic's opinion, Optimus tried to veto coffee.

Faintly heard sounds like static-edged laughter led Daniel to the conclusion that Scorponok was finding this hilarious.

Daniel did get his coffee though.

"Were you talking to the others yesterday while driving?"

A tick of silence. "Yes. I did not intend to seem like I was ignoring you."

"That's aright, I was just wondering. Is there any way I could listen in today."

"Yes. If you like you could also participate."

So today, the voices of the Autobots were added to the music from the radio. Bumblebee thought it terribly funny that Daniel had managed to convince Prime to ignore Ratchet's suggestions. Ironhide was teasing Prime about backing down from someone smaller than his foot. Bumblebee lived up to his name with a quick sting about a car seat and Captain Lennox's daughter, and Ironhide was yelling threats and forgetting he was supposed to stick with English when they both moved off the public channel to argue privately.

Thus is was all day. The topics jumped from simply updating each other on location and status, to what their humans were doing at the moment, to discussions of how weird they found certain human things, to teasing each other about their current pastimes (Bumblebee had discovered Google Whacking and thought it a mildly entertaining use of idle processing power -- especially when he could share the results and try and lock up the others' logic functions). And Daniel asked questions. It wasn't lost on him that now that he was further away from almost all of them than he'd been since he was hired, he now had even more opportunity to ask questions and observe how they interacted with each other.

And this time when the subject of dinner came up, Daniel was able to tell Ratchet how much he suggestions weren't appreciated himself. To much laughing by the two uninvolved Autobots. Apparently his traveling with Optimus was turning into the Autobot equivalent of a reality show.

The utter awareness that he was sleeping inside someone hadn't abated, but no nightmares woke him. In fact, during the drifting time between sleep and waking that morning, he idly thought that in some way living on a thin bunk in in a sleeping bag was more familiar than the apartment bed had been. More comfortable. Then he woke up fully and remembered he was inside an alien robot, and got weirded out all over again.

Still having no luck in figuring out how Autobots organized social groupings, today Daniel's questions focused on trying to figure out relevant aspects of how they translated their language to english. What he got was that although there were patterns just as in any language, sometimes the words used to translate had been chosen arbitrarily. Frustrating, but not unexpected.

Waking the next day, nightmares and creepiness (and allergies, but he'd been trying to ignore those anyway) were set aside in a flash of inspiration on the family issue.

"Are the four of you a complete social unit?"

Complete silence. Then Bumblebee, "Like the Lennoxes?" all innocence, and, if previous experience held, trying to turn the line of questioning into a way to insult Ironhide.

Ironhide growled. "Ain't any of us are sparklings," he said firmly and probably not entirely to Daniel. Thankfully the language questions from yesterday meant Daniel knew that 'sparkling' meant 'transformer considered young'. He still had no idea how 'young' was defined since at the same time they'd said that transformers don't go through a physical maturation process, and that there was not set time period defined as a transformer's 'sparkling-hood'.

"Of course not one of you slaggers considers he might mean like Captain Lennox's team," broke in Ratchet before Ironhide and Bumblebee started snarling at each other, "which is what we started as."

That perked Daniel's interest. This group had been militarily organized. He'd known that but it sounded like they didn't think they were anymore. "Started as?"

"When the teams were organized to look for the Allspark, we were a complete team, and none of us left behind more than our home." Optimus clarified. "We had no ties outside of each other."

"We weren't exactly tied to each other at the time either." -- Ratchet.

Now this was sounding promising. They weren't describing anything that resembled a human family, but in the absense of biological lineages... "Tied?"

"Friendship units." Bumblebee elaborated. "And that wasn't exactly true, Ratchet. Jazz and Ironhide were so close that when I was transfered, at first I thought they'd been gestalt-bonded. Though obviously they weren't part of a gestalt."

And Ironhide broke in, "And don't think I don't remember that you and Prime were almost attached at the hip."

"That's different," Ratchet protested while Optimus laughed, "Optimus and I were two of the last non-war-builds anywhere and the only ones stationed in" there was hiss of static and warbling tones as he pronounced the name in his native language. "There were things about that none of you sparklings could understand."

"I noticed you didn't deny Bumblebee's point about Ironhide and Jazz."

"What's to deny? Those two were hellions."

"I was not!" Ironhide protested and was met with a chorus of "Yes, you were." from both Ratchet and Optimus. Ratchet continued with, "you slagger."

Hmm... "So how were Jazz and Ironhide 'tied' together? Bumblebee mentioned gestalt-bonded..."

"Well I might have thought they were twins, but Ironhide's a warrior model and Jazz was a spy a bit smaller than I am and twins don't function well with such different shells."

"We weren't," Ironhide huffed, "We just knew each other well and accepted the parts we didn't know or didn't understand. We weren't bonded. Our sparks were entirely our own."

After that the topic wandered and Daniel couldn't get any of them to elaborate more. That was alright. He added the conversation to his notes and wrote his own comments. Then busied himself with coming up with a better line of questioning now that he had a starting point.

That night when they stopped for the night, Daniel asked Scorponok if Decepticons were similar to Autobots. Scorponok answered with "yes -- no -- I don't know". With him unable to elaborate, Daniel dropped it and asked him about human music instead.

888

A little over a week and a half later, Daniel was back in his apartment, organizing his notes and trying to wrap his head around how transformer families were constructed. It was closer to how peer groups were constructed in post-industrial cities among humans than human families -- proximity allows compatible personalities the opportunity to connect into friendships and somehow that builds into full social groups they felt were synonymous with families. He'd also gotten that a small group in enforced and isolated proximity either all bonded into a family or killed each other. But it wasn't that simple (it never was, even with humans). There were exceptions, adoptions, 'bots that had been built to work as a family but not as brothers, something they called "twins" but how that worked Daniel couldn't figure out, and gestalts which were sort of half way between built family groups and twins, but still more than either. And he had no clue what they meant by "bonded", much less "gestalt-bonded".

Well, he'd have a few days for some in-person interviews before he and Prime headed out again. When they'd gotten back to Tranquility, Optimus had said that Ratchet was also headed back and that he wanted to do some sort of health scans. Then Captain Lennox had met with them at Sam's house and said he wanted to talk with Prime privately, so Ironhide was sulking in the parking lot beneath Daniel's apartment.

Notes organized, he headed down. Might as well take advantage of having a pickup truck (and a captive audience) while he could -- he needed to some books, then some electronic parts from a Radio Shack or something. He wanted to find out how hard it was to build some simple electronics during his and Optimus's next surveying trip. By then, Sam and Mikaela should be out of school, and he wanted to talk to them.

fini

notes: long i know. i'd apologize, but it's not my fault. just as i'd resigned myself to daniel being a scenery character, a plot device and little more, he comes and dumps every detail, both weird and mundane, of starting life with the autobots into my brain. he insisted that if he was going to deal with the weirdness of giant alien robots, he was going to make me suffer with him. i tried to tell him that the autobots were downright normal in comparison to what he has to deal with in his original universe and he should be thanking me -- especially because i'm not into killing and resurrecting my characters. but he still wouldn't leave me alone.

i actually read a pdf of the california commercial driver's handbook to figure out what needed to be done for daniel to "drive" prime around because, while all the other autobots have cars that fall under a normal license, you need a special one to operate a big truck like prime (and that's a federal law, not a state one). it was one of the more tedious things i've ever had to do in pursuit of this story, worse than morse code translations. finally i went with declaring the four of them "military" vehicles and giving him a military exemption license, mostly because it was the simplest solution and can be applied to almost anyone who has to "drive" an autobot (barring emergencies, which are exemptions in and of themselves).

timing -- starts directly after "introductions" and ends directly before "conversation 5"

i re-edited the last piece a bit. the only significant change is the title, which is not "divergence" instead of "first steps." and also i forgot to say this at the end of "turning point" and i really should have -- dirge, ramjet, and thrust are F-22 Raptors like starscream. thrust has been modified for VTOL--which is a cybertonian design not a human one so it doesn't mess up the raptors profile. blitzwing's alts are the russian MiG-31 and russian T-90 tank.

song credit:

"I Fought the Law" Mary's Danish, off the Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie soundtrack


	26. Kodak Moment

summary: kids are like the perfect spies in training -- keeping an eye on them is a nightmare, and they get all sorts of places they aren't supposed to be

disclaimer: no own, no sue. song credit at the end

warnings: today we will alliterate nicely with "cuteness and cussing"

note: inspired by a pm from Novamyth. here annabelle is about a year and a half -- walking and talking, though not well

Replacement: Roads -- Kodak Moment

When even his master tensed, optics bouncing from the human sparkling to the drone and back, Scorponok knew today was not a day to push his luck. He'd made his peace with each of the Autobots, save Cliffjumper, and didn't fear them anymore. Not even Ironhide. But he knew that putting so much as a scratch on a human would undo every bit of acceptance he'd earned, even with Prime and especially with Ironhide, and the sparkling would be too easy to damage by accident.

So under Ironhide's watchful optics and watching for any sign of disapproval from his master, Scorponok slunk some distance away from the knot of humans he'd usually be so eager to pester. He judged he was far enough away when he saw the Autobots relax, and settled down into recharge.

A touch brought him out of it a few hours later. It was too soft to be hostile, or a prelude to an attack, and too small to be anything other than a human. He on-lined his optics to see the human sparkling very, very close, touching one of the face shields near his optics. He froze, halting even the fans of his cooling system, and reset all four optics.

The small human giggled at the blinking red lights and moved her hand from the shield to one of the optics themselves. Scorponok nearly jerked his head away from the girl, almost slammed the shields across his optics to protect them -- never had something come so close to his optics without damaging them -- but managed to stop himself. The sparkling's hand might have gotten caught and hurt if he hadn't. His optics flickered rapidly in indecision and the human giggled again.

Desperately, Scorponok scanned the area. Where was his master, the Autobots, the sparkling's creators, _anyone_?

Master was there, his optics dark, not quite in recharge. The sparkling's female creator was over there doing something with a pile of fibers in her lap, talking to Doctor Daniel Jackson. Everyone else was somewhere behind him, but he couldn't tell what they were doing, just that it involved a lot of driving and running around.

The tiny -- Primus! She was tiny, too small, too fragile -- human cooed softly, voice vibrating in a way that was eerily close to some of his own happier sounds. Scorponok would have found it reassuring if he wasn't so tense and _scared_ by the sparkling's proximity. His cooling system was starting to protest the fans being shut off, but he determinedly kept them still. What was he supposed to _do_. He couldn't do anything that might hurt her, but he wasn't sure what might hurt her and what wouldn't, so he did nothing, not daring to so much as click because the sound might startle her and then she'd fall against a sharp edge, and what would he do then? Ironhide and the humans and Ratchet and Bumblebee and even _Prime_ would be so mad at him then. He was going to be in enough trouble just for being close to her. He wasn't _allowed_ close to the sparkling. There was a _reason_ he wasn't allowed near the sparkling.

"Bug!" she declared and suddenly clambered onto his back. Ruthlessly he held every single component in his body still, even as he panicked and pinged Prime's communications system with a command link request to try and get his attention. The mech didn't respond and he pinged again. The only response was an automatic denial. A third time -- not so much as an optic flicker.

She was crawling around on him, softly singing "i-sy, bi-sy, spi-er ki-em up'a wawa-spou" and panic was almost overwhelming his systems. All his secondary weapons were up there. And that was far, far too close to his _tail_. Desperate and really, really hoping he wouldn't regret it, Scorponok found Ironhide on his scanners and pinged his communications system with a command link request.

Ironhide turned the request down as automatically as Prime did, and for a very brief moment relief was equal to the panic. Then the sparkling moved again and panic and the need to not so much as twitch overwhelmed even the relief. He pinged Ironhide again.

Autobot footsteps reverberated over Scorponok's vibro sensors, coming closer. "Prime! What the frag is your bug doing?" He was still too far down the hill to see what was going on, but there should be no reason for Scorponok to be trying to link to _Ironhide_, and he wanted to know what the frag was going on.

"Bug!" The little human squealed.

His master's optics flickered on and Scorponok pinged his communications again, four times in quick succession not waiting for the denial, needing to catch his attention.

Prime's optics focused on the very, very still Scorponok and the sparkling crawling around dangerously close to the drone's weapons. An alert from his cooling system flashed in his processor, but all Scorponok had the attention for was relief that now his master would deal with the sparkling, hope that he wouldn't be punished too severely, and holding himself as motionless as stone.

888

He was ashamed to admit it, but when Sarah Lennox and her daughter had come to the "Nighttime Picnic with the Autobots" that Sam insisted on having, Optimus had been relieved that Scorponok had slunk away from the humans and settled into recharge.

Usually he crowded near the group of humans, demanding that they pet him with the small, soft hands he seemed to find even more pleasurable than an Autobot's careful finger strokes. Both he and the humans were careful, and as the group had become more used to him, the Autobots no longer feared the drone would hurt them, and the teens and adults knew not to run their hands over any sharp edges.

But the human sparkling, the little girl, Annabelle Lennox... Optimus didn't think Scorponok would be anything but gentle with her, but he'd been built as a weapon and had many sharp edges and gaps where a very small hand could get caught and damaged. There were so many ways she could get hurt by accident. So Optimus had been relieved when Scorponok had taken one look at the youngest Lennox and chosen to recharge some distance from the group.

The evening had gone well. After the food had been eaten, almost everyone had gone down the hill to play a game of modified "flashlight tag" that had been devised. It involved a lot of running and driving around a field. Bumblebee and Ironhide had even goaded Ratchet into joining the fun with them and Cliffjumper. Optimus had watched Sarah Lennox put the fussy little girl down under several layers of blankets for the girl to sleep in. She'd told both Optimus and Daniel Jackson, who had decided against joining the game, that she'd probably sleep there until she was picked up to go home. Smiling, Optimus had settled into a power save mode, listening to the two humans talk and the distant sounds of the game.

Though he hadn't had to in months, refusing Scorponok's link requests were still so automatic that they didn't do more than register on his internal logs for him to review later.

Therefore the first clue he had that something wasn't right was Ironhide yelling his name from the bottom of the hill, "Prime! What the frag is your bug doing?" Optimus had just enough time start up his optics and think 'Scorponok --- wha --?' before being bombarded with a succession of panicked feeling link requests from the drone in question. He turned his attention to Scorponok.

There was little Annabelle Lennox, happily crawling around on top of an unnaturally still scorpion-'bot.

He turned to the two humans nearest him as the entire flashlight tag group arrived on the heels of Ironhide. "Mrs. Lennox, you or your husband might want to retrieve your sparkling."

Three voices laughing, two of which belonged to a pair of teenagers and the last to a mech, and _"So help me if you can -- I've got to get -- back to the house at Pooh -- Corner by one"_ playing out of a car stereo drowned out Sarah's gasp of surprise and alarm. The noise being made by the yellow scout drew the girl's attention and she yelled "Bee bee bee!" at him.

"You three," Ratchet growled, "are not helping."

Captain Lennox was the one who stepped forward though. Bumblebee was, as already stated, laughing. Ratchet looked worried. Cliffjumper looked hostile. And Ironhide looked like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh at or shoot at Scorponok.

"Hey little lady," Lennox called up to his sparkling, "you wanna come down from there?"

"Da-die," she called back, and let her creator climb up and retrieve her.

The very instant the two humans were no longer touching him, Scorponok darted away in a blur, stopping some thirty feet away, facing the group, back legs already dug into the dirt and shivering.

The glassy sound drew Optimus's attention away from the family tableau to the frightened drone. He took a step closer, thinking to calm him down.

And stopped when Scorponok wiggled deeper into the dirt, still shivering. Afraid of him -- the realization nearly shattered Optimus's spark. He had never -- _never_ -- desired to see any sentient cower from him, and after the nine months since Scorponok's defection, he _especially_ didn't want to see this sentient cower from _anything_.

Aware that he was now the center of attention, Optimus crouched and held out his hand with the back toward the drone and fingers relaxed and slightly curled inward. He knew from previous times where Scorponok had been hesitant to approach him -- though never _this_ scared -- that he interpreted this as both inviting and non-hostile. Mikeala had once compared it to the way a human would hold out a hand to a jumpy cat. Optimus didn't know enough about interacting with cats to confirm or refute that, and he certainly didn't know why might calm cats down, but he knew why Scorponok thought it non-hostile -- bending the wrist down blocked Prime's energy sword so he couldn't draw the weapon without damaging himself and curling the fingers slightly inward made it harder to grab or hit the drone without warning.

"You're not in trouble," he told Scorponok gently, "It's not your fault and I'm not mad at you. You did well. You didn't do anything wrong. You don't get punished for doing nothing wrong..." and so on, the words apparently not nearly as important as the tone.

And slowly Scorponok responded. The shivering stopped and he crept closer until he rubbed against the back of Optimus's fingers.

Distantly he noticed Mikaela's comment, "Aww...just like a kitty", Annabelle's answering "Kitty-bug!" and Sam's snickering.

But he turned his attention to Ratchet and Cliffjumper. "One of you please drive Doctor Jackson back to his apartment when you're all done here," then back to the drone, "I think we need to leave."

The answering chirr was timid, but enough. Optimus transformed and Scorponok hopped up behind the cab. Annabelle called "Buh-bye, kitty-bug!" as Optimus drove away. They left the lookout and the stressful little human sparkling behind to go find a parking lot where Optimus wouldn't look out of place and they could recharge without being disturbed.

888

Bumblebee never admitted that he and Sam had been the ones to first print out the image of Annabelle Lennox crawling on top of Scorponok. Epps didn't admit that, after seeing that first print, he'd been the one to make nearly fifty copies of it. Air Raid and Fireflight didn't admit that they'd been the ones to take the stack of copies and make sure they got pinned and taped up around the base. The base commander certainly never admitted that he'd taken one of the copies off the wall of the mess hall and kept it in his desk drawer. And if any of the soldiers knew anything about how the pictures had gotten where they were, they didn't admit it either.

Everyone agreed though, that it was one of the cutest things they'd seen in a while.

fini

notes: omg roflmao. i can't believe i actually finished that this quickly. poor scorponok, i'm so mean to him. i really hope you like it, Novamyth.

timing is fifteen months post movie, during the second month of the prank war betweeen scorponok and air raid and cliffjumper.

song credit:

"The House At Pooh Corner" The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band


	27. Chimera

summary: more decepticons? we kinda expected that. another autobot? great! now if only we could find him...

disclaimer: after twenty-six chapters of this, does anyone still think i'm claiming the characters and concepts as mine? if so i've got some real estate options i'd like to discuss with you...

warnings: ironhide and an unnamed transformer have potty mouthes

Replacement: Roads -- Chimera

Remaining undetected during atmospheric entry was harder and more stressful than all the time following his target before that. But Mirage had been made to watch, to remain undetected. By no stretch had it been easy, but planetary landing was not a reason to loose track of his target -- not in his own mind.

Which was why he was ready to rip out his own wires in frustration. He'd followed Soundwave through deep space, kept track of him while landing on this dustball of an organic planet, only to watch him be carried out of Mirage's sensor range by a flight capable Decepticon.

But there was nothing he could do about it. His protoform certainly couldn't keep up with a group of even burdened seekers -- and even if he could, the scans he'd taken of this planet form orbit indicated a large amount of water, which the seekers were headed right toward and Mirage couldn't follow them over. So, fuming, he took scans and made notes on the group of Decepticons. Three seekers -- he noted the colors -- another who was either a fourth seeker or a triplechanger -- treads on his primary form were making Mirage lean toward triplechanger -- one of the two Cassetticons Soundwave had been missing, and of course Soundwave himself with the three Cassetticons he'd had with him.

Then the sensor blips that were the Decepticons vanished off the edge of Mirage's scanning radius, well out into the water. He needed to report to his commander.

Find an alt form first, Mirage reminded himself, then report. There was always the chance -- almost a guarantee -- that Soundwave would be able to track the transmission to it's source and Mirage would need the ability to be far from here when the Decepticons started searching.

He went back to the nearby dark knot of vehicles and equipment where Soundwave had found his new form. He hadn't scanned one earlier because doing so would have alerted the Decepticon to his presence. Now he ran his sensors over each vehicle critically. Most were too big. Mirage wasn't a mini-bot, but he was a bit smaller, and had much less mass, than the average warrior-built. He was much less massive than even most spy models -- including most mini-bots. There were a few, though, small enough. All were similar in form and function -- low slung and compact, built for speed on smooth ground and probably utterly useless off roads. Still they were the right size, and they were here -- Mirage wouldn't have to go searching for them, spending time he should be using to update his commander on the situation.

So he transcanned the one he liked the best, ignoring the vehicle's paint scheme in favor of his preferred blue and white. Instead of transforming directly back to primary form, he test drove it a bit, getting used to it. He made a short annoyed sound from his engine -- the undercarriage was entirely too low, even on this planet's roads there were uneven spots scraping at him. When he did transform back, a bit of distance from both the vehicles and equipment and the landing sites, he sent out a subspace transmission to his ship's last coordinates -- he'd been equipped with long range subspace transmitters when his commander had realized that he might have to follow Decepticons out of standard range of the ship.

It took a breem for all the encryption and codes to match up, but soon enough he could hear his commander's order to "Report."

"I followed Soundwave and his three Cassetticons to the third planet of the star at these coordinates," Mirage sent them. "Unfortunately I lost them after landing when they joined with another group of Decepticons and were carried over one of the expanses of water that cover most of this planet. I saw four fliers -- three confirmed seekers and one probable triplechanger -- as well as one of Soundwave's missing Cassetticons. They spoke of at least one more seeker."

"Confirm your location."

Slightly confused Mirage sent the star's coordinates again, this time accompanied by the orbital coordinates of the third planet.

"Fragging Pit! What are the chances...?" One of the unit's two warrior-builts cut into the channel.

"Uncountable," the medic/scientist answered, "Though the presence of the Cassetticon does --"

"That was rhetorical, you --"

"If you please," the commander overrode them, "I doubt Mirage has much time before this transmission is tracked. Mirage," he turned his attention back to the spy, "Prime has sent a recall to his location. The coordinates match those for your location. I want you to report to his unit. Tell him that Soundwave is there. Update him to our status -- we are alive, our last venture was a victory, and we will head to his location as soon as we are finished here. Unfortunately at this time, I cannot tell you when that will be. Then stay with his unit unless he orders otherwise."

"Yes, Sir."

"Until all are one, Mirage."

"Until all are one, Sir."

"Don't have too much fun witho--" The warrior was cut off as the commander shut down the ship's long range com.

Mirage didn't dwell on it. He needed to move before anyone came to investigate. This time he appreciated his new alt mode's speed, even if it's lack of clearance was painful in places. He stopped as the sun was coming over the planet's horizon. Organics and their vehicles were starting fill the roads and twice he'd had to engage his invisibility to escape organics attempting to corner him. It was just his luck that he'd choose something conspicuous enough to warrant capture just by being present. But after that dash away from his transmission site, he'd decided he liked this vehicle's speed.

Still invisible, he transformed and left the road. He'd travel during the night cycle, when there wasn't anyone around to notice his alt form. As soon as he knew where he was going. He watched the vehicles as he logged onto the information network he'd noticed as soon as he'd lifted his communications black out protocols, looking for any sign of Prime and his unit.

And found a pocket of information that had to be there for any new Autobots arriving. No location, and the only names were those of Decepticons known to be on the planet. In addition to the four mechs and drone he'd seen, there was another seeker and one ground vehicle. The fourth seeker was Starscream, and Mirage almost contacted his ship again to tell his commander that the Decepticon second in command -- effectively the commander while Megatron had been lost -- was here. This pocket also contained several languages, some maps -- and a data-net location for more -- and a list of what protocols were in effect.

He spent the day sifting through the humans' internet for signs and rumors of Autobot presence. He couldn't get into the military network -- at least not without a hard line connection -- but there were other signs humans had noted -- mostly rumors of "haunted" vehicles that drove themselves and warped accounts of battles -- even if they didn't know what they meant. Which it looked a bit like they did. Or at least quite a few knew about the Decepticons and had speculated about allies against them.

North of here, he decided, and a bit to the west, probably a seven day drive -- less with his speed.

He also made sure to find out why his alt form was so conspicuous. Apparently racecars only drove on tracks used for sporting events and were illegal on normal streets. Well, Mirage wasn't going to scan a new form now. He wasn't a troublemaker like the two warriors he served with, but he wasn't going to let some miniscule organic decide his alternate form for him. Besides he liked the speed. But he would stay invisible so he didn't attract extra attention.

Both running sensor bafflers and Mirage invisible, neither Mirage nor the yellow Camaro noticed when they passed each other two days later.

888

"Prime, I found the transmission site. Evidence of transformer activity, faction unknown, but most likely mixed."

"Elaborate, Bumblebee."

"Three landing craters, one just outside average sensor range of the other two, which are very close together. Foot prints from the two close together indicate one mech and one bipedal drone, they acquire alts and then move off. Where they stay for at least an hour based off the drone's pacing. There's also evidence that the mech was carrying at least one creature drone -- a quadruped. Footprints from the third crater go directly the other landing sight, and track the two 'bots to their location. They're joined by four fliers -- unknown if those are Decepticons already on Earth or 'bots that just landed elsewhere. The mech and the two drones are carried off by the fliers. The watcher then finds his own alt form, moves off, transforms to primary, then transforms again, this time driving at high speed. Tracks are lost when he finds a paved road. No way to know where he went after that."

"Recent experience may tell us that Autobot drones are not impossible, but most likely they are Decepticons."

"Yes, Sir. And Autobot fliers would have no reason not to announce their presence before landing. While an Autobot spy following a group of Decepticons would have a very good reason."

"True. There's no way to track him?"

"No. I did find some recent police reports of an unmarked blue racecar though."

"We'll keep an optic out for one, then. Unless you think there's anything else to find there, you're free to come back."

"Yes, Sir."

888

It took five days for Mirage to get used to the constant communications clutter on this planet. During that time he felt no subspace transmissions. Most Autobot units wouldn't go very long without chattering at each other, and, while he wouldn't feel short range transmissions until he was practically in their presence, at least one scout should have been sent to investigate the source of the interstellar transmission near the landing site and reported back. He'd been hoping he could used the report transmission to narrow down where he was searching.

Grumpy, he parked himself in a ravine, out of sight of any humans, to get some real recharge without running his invisibility, though he dialed the sensitivity on his proximity scanners all the way up.

He woke when the desert began cooling around him with clearer processors. Idly, he went through the human communications. He wasn't a communications expert, but even a cursory look told him the most likely reason for the lack of a long range subspace transmission -- the encryption on human cell phones was horrible, but there were so many that the Autobots had probably decided to hide their communications on those frequencies. If they'd done so, sorting out an Autobot conversation from the millions of human ones would be a task even the most proficient communications specialist would find more daunting than any amount of encryption, like tracking a dust mote in a nebula.

Which certainly didn't help Mirage. He didn't want Soundwave to find out who had followed him -- the 'Con wasn't stupid, he'd figure it out the moment he broadcast in the open to tell Prime he was here. Then he'd contact other Decepticons to make trouble for the rest of his unit. He needed to actually find the other Autobots. As it was the 'Con probably knew he'd been followed, but couldn't know where he'd picked up the tail.

Well, this was the place that highest concentration of "haunted" vehicle sightings, of at least three different vehicles. As well as a few other signs ranging from speculation that two specific jets overflew the area frequently to an old police report of a teenager who'd claimed his car had stood up. Tranquility, California...

888

"Anyone?"

"Nothing blue, racecar shaped, or even particularly odd. He probably dropped that alt for something less noticeable."

"Or found a way to hide even with it."

"Oh, c'mon Bumblebee. That's not possible. Trying not to be seen by the humans is like trying not to drive through sand."

"Maybe for you, Cliffjumper, but I've snuck into Decepticon territory with my current paint job."

"Yeah, well, we all know the slagging 'Cons couldn't find their own --"

"This is getting fragging ridiculous. Bumblebee, are you sure he'd be coming here?"

"Do I look like a telepath, Ironhide? But I do know that someone who hasn't figured out how to mimic an Earth IP address has been pinging internet sights that mention everything the residents notice of our presence, and that the same person has pinged sites that mention Tranquility more than any other."

"That's --"

"All of you be quiet."

"The Aerialbots also report no sign of a blue racecar in the vicinity. I'm afraid that until he contacts us, there isn't anything we can do."

"We could just call for him on an open channel."

"And broadcast his presence when he might be following a Decepticon?"

"Just saying."

"No. We'll wait."

888

He wasn't sure if the jets were Autobots or Decepticons. So when they started flying over the area regularly, he made sure he stayed invisible.

By this time though, he was almost certain he'd identified the Autobot ground vehicles. He'd been lucky. Only one had the Autobot insignia displayed so it was easily seen in alt form. Mirage had followed that one where he could and watched to see who and what he associated with. At this close range they were easy to pick up as transformers on his scanners, since Autobots generally didn't have shields and no one ran bafflers unless actively hiding. The only discrepancy was the Decepticon drone the largest seemed to carry around with him, but the drone never made any threatening motions either to the other Autobots or to the humans that often seemed nearby. And the semi-truck also an Autobot symbol, more discrete than the yellow-green vehicle, as a small emblem on the truck's grill. After spotting the drone, Mirage had checked that.

He'd almost gotten caught by the yellow one, which wouldn't have gone well for him. But it did pay off in that the two humans had mentioned a gathering soon at that "look out". Mirage had no idea where the look out might be, but he just switched to following the yellow-green one who wore his symbol openly until the gathering took place.

888

Ratchet was the last to arrive, as always. This time it was only be a few minutes, but sometimes he would wait for half an hour or more just to make sure he was the last. He did it to be perverse. It was another expression of his grumpy and contradictory self. If he'd served any other commander he would have been written up for insubordination over a dozen times since landing on this planet alone. Instead Optimus just spared his medic an amused look.

At least he was amused until Scorponok darted away from where he was soliciting attention from the group of humans on the picnic blanket and hissed at the Hummer. No, Optimus amended the thought as the scorpion darted around Ratchet to rattle-hiss again, something behind Ratchet. Weapons made their appearances around the group. Even Cliffjumper spared them his usual suspicions -- even a Decepticon spy wouldn't warn them about something that wasn't there. Ratchet got himself out of the lines of fire before transforming himself.

Scorponok hissed a bit louder, the sound accompanied by the whir of his cannons powering up and the harsh metallic sound of readying his tail. A shimmer in the air where the drone was focusing and a blue and white racecar faded into view. And waited.

When the newcomer made no move, aggressive or otherwise, Optimus thrummed his engine to call Scorponok over, away from the blue car. When Scorponok obeyed, Optimus addressed the racecar, in Cybertonian overlaid with English for the benefit of the humans -- Will Lennox at least had an anti-tank gun and might start shooting if he didn't know what was going on. "You may transform and explain."

The new 'bot was a little bit bigger than Bumblebee and Cliffjumper, and very lightly armored with most of his mass being infrastructure rather than armor. The Autobots relaxed a bit, and when Captain Lennox didn't Optimus figured out why. The humans couldn't see it, but the blue and white mech's posture was subtly submissive.

"Which language do you wish me to use?" He answered in the same Cybertonian overlaid with English Optimus had used.

"English, please."

"Yes, Sir," he answered in that language alone. " I am Autobot Mirage, reporting to Optimus Prime." His optics flicked around, as though not one hundred percent sure he was actually addressing the Prime.

"Please verify."

Identification codes flowed through communications channels. Optimus opened a private channel to his unit's current com officer. "Bumblebee?"

"Looks authentic. If he'd transmitted this before landing we'd have no reason to question it."

Nodding, he showed his acceptance of the identification by transmitting his own, the other Autobots doing the same, all introducing themselves. The acceptance seemed to relax Mirage, as he shifted his posture from subtly submissive to something more confident.

"Continue," Optimus told the blue mech.

"I was following a Decepticon communications officer -- Soundwave, I suppose, in this language --"

"Was wondering when that fragger would show up," Ironhide grumped, spinning his cannons in a manner Optimus thought Mirage was taking as aggressive, from the looks, but was really just slightly bored.

"I was operating under blackout protocols. I didn't know there were any Autobots here until I reported back to my unit. Almost immediately upon landing Soundwave and his Cassetticons met up with Decepticons already here and flew away. I do not know why he is here, though from Ironhide's comment, you do..."

Optimus answered, "Frenzy was killed here. We've been expecting Soundwave since before Laserbeak arrived with Blitzwing." He paused. "You said you reported to your unit. They're alive?"

"Yes. They will answer your recall as soon as they're finished where they are."

Relief flooded Optimus at that, and only his own control kept it from overwhelming him. Alive! Alive! This war may have destroyed they're first home, their place of origin, even the Allspark itself. But this, more than even Cliffjumper's and the Aerialbots' arrivals assured him that there was hope. Cliffjummper's coming had of course been welcome and inspiring, but he had been separated from his team and the only one of them he knew the fate of was dead. The Aerialbots of course knew their bothers lived, but nothing of their status.

But this, a team -- a whole, alive team -- had received his message and was coming. And if there was one, there were likely others.

Recognizing the effect this news had had on his leader, Ironhide spoke up. "Come over here kid." Mirage looked uncertain, glancing between Ironhide and the still stunned Optimus. "Bumblebee, you wanna get ta calling out contacts and telling them the news. A -- Mirage do you have any visuals of the fragger and his Cassetticons since they landed? And I told you ta come here. Don't worry about him," he gestured to Optimus, "he won't mind."

With a last uncertain glance at Prime, Mirage straightened almost arrogantly and stepped toward the warrior-built. "Of course I took images of Soundwave and his Cassetticons when they scanned new forms. I am not an amateur,"

Optimus listened to his Autobots making plans, contacting various people, discussing which of the communications protocols would now go in effect now that the Decepticons had an actual communications officer. Optimus felt no need to interfere. Ironhide was a good planner, though didn't always see the more subtle options. Bumblebee would cover the warrior's weakness in that regard and was very clever himself. Ratchet would keep them both from going overboard and from making assumptions. Optimus sank back to his sitting position and just watched them. Right now Optimus just wanted to let his spark hum with its joy.

Scorponok, after one last suspicious chirp in Mirage's direction, climbed up to perch on Optimus's knee and solicit petting. Optimus smiled at the thought of Scorponok being secure enough to be suspicious instead of suspected.

The news of a new group of very dangerous enemies aside, this was a good day.

fini

note: there are three connotations to the word "chimera" used in this piece, each connotation referring to a different main character. they're obscure enough that i feel like sharing. the first is soundwave (or more specifically his entire cassetticon unit) as a monstrous entity comprised of parts from different animals. the second is "chimera" as a synonym for "mirage". the third is a lesser used definition of "chimera" as "a thing that is hoped or wished for but in fact is illusory or impossible to achieve" and refers to optimus's formerly impossible hope that the autobots had and would continue to survive.

timing -- three months after "perceptions", which is posted as chapter three. and this officially puts the pieces in place to move forward starting next school quarter.

new 'bot alt forms:

Mirage -- Ligier JS43 race car. Blue and white, without any advertisements or markings

Soundwave -- 2010 KIA Soul (a very high tech SUV) that's been heavily modified to have a set of huge speakers instead of cargo space. His primary form to alt form mass ratio is correct, but his new alt form doesn't have the space to carry his cassettes. Color is very dark blue.

Rumble -- 2008 Harley-Davidson VRSCDX in purple. A very pretty bike.

Frenzy of course was a very tiny silver CD player and is now deceased

Buzzsaw, Laserbeak, and Ravage scanned local creatures and don't have alt forms...

Laserbeak -- he was with Blitzwing when he landed in Russia and ended up a Russian gyrfalcon. He's about half the size of Scorponok.

Buzzsaw -- a black-shouldered kite (a bird of prey native to the texas area, which is where they all landed) the same size as Laserbeak.

Ravage -- a black colored puma a bit smaller than Scorponok.


	28. Conversation 9

summary: stubborn little mini-bots and obnoxious little drones...

disclaimer: i in no way shape or form own transformers. i'm just playing. it amuses me to take the evil, mindless drone from the movie and twist it into something obscenely cute.

warnings: surprisingly none. maybe cuteness, but not on the level of some of the others.

Replacement: Roads -- Conversation Nine, Cliffjumper and Scorponok

When the Decepticon revealed itself by shivering its way out of the ground right in front of him, of course Cliffjumper reacted by shooting it. Crafty little thing that it was, of course Scorponok dodged, making that staticky laugh sound.

The laugh was what made Cliffjumper pause before his next shot. He may not know as much about the 'Con's method of communication as the others (he didn't want to know -- he didn't care about communicating with the hateful little thing) but he had learned a few things. That sound was usually used when the drone managed to get him in trouble.

Sure enough the laugh changed to the thrum that the drone only used when Prime was nearby.

Snarling, Cliffjumper deactivated his cannon. There was Prime on his proximity scanners. Shooting the drone would only get him in trouble. Scorponok had gotten him in enough trouble since he'd landed on this planet. He sulked instead.

Two of Scorponok's optics dimmed to half brightness and he let out another static-laugh, this one softer, more rounded somehow, an amused snicker rather than a vicious cackle. Obviously he found Cliffjumper backing down as amusing as getting him in trouble would have been, just differently so.

The orange 'bot just sulked.

Which apparently was boring for the drone, because the hateful little thing started randomly doodling in the dirt. It didn't go away, which the Porsche would have preferred, but seemed to be completely absorbed in its artistic stylings.

After a little over four breems -- just under half a human hour -- Cliffjumper grew curious despite himself.

The shapes were crude, but unmistakable. A battle. Autobots verses Decepticons, the two sides identified by a crude rendering of the faction symbols behind the battle lines. Seekers in the drawing's "sky" -- there was no horizon depicted so the sky was defined simply by being above the ground bound transformers -- were chasing and being chased by a mismatched collection of cyclo-craft and space shuttles. Comments in Cybertronian calligraphy that was so warped and broken that it was unintelligible adorned the "edges" of the piece.

The 'Con then noticed the scrutiny and moved away from the picture. It settled to watch the Autobot, as though intensely interested in his reaction to the drawing.

It just took a moment to notice that the Decepticons were winning the dirt drawn battle. More fallen -- dead or injured -- transformers littered the Autobot side. Cliffjumper bristled and started powering his cannon before he remembered Prime's presence. And no matter how much he wanted this to be proof of ill intent, he knew Prime wouldn't take a dirt drawing as proof of anything.

"You don't even regret it, do you?"

Scorponok reset all four optics, first the lower pair, then the upper. Cliffjumper chose to take that as a question.

"Being a Decepticon. Killing Windcharger." He clarified. He clenched his hands into fists with the effort not to shoot the Decepticon.

Scrape-buzz. Krr-click?

Whatever that meant.

Obviously he wasn't going to be able to get any answers from the drone.

"Just go away. Leave me alone."

This was more familiar territory for the obnoxious little drone. It hunched closer to the dirt, right where it was, and swept its tail behind it so as to send up a large plume of dust. Pointedly not going away.

Growling his systems Clifjumper stomped toward the hateful little thing. It scuttled to the side, laughing.

Then stopped, almost freezing in place, listening for something. As much as he wanted to Cliffjumper did not take the chance to squish the bug once and for all. The drone burrowed, and never believing it wouldn't attack, the orange 'bot readied for an attack.

He only relaxed when Prime transformed and drove away, his pet Decepticon showing clear on sensors with him.

Snarling, Cliffjumper kicked the thing's dirt drawing. No matter what Prime wanted to believe, that thing would never be an Autobot.

fini

notes: cliffjumper's being a stubborn glitch -- both in the story and as a muse.

timing -- a bit after "conversation six"

and to all of you who wanted a copy of the picture of annabelle and scorponok. the soldiers at the base have apparently decided that the picture is classified material and won't let me take one of the prints off base. and even though i, as the author, _know_ sam, bumblebee, epps, and the aerialbots all have copies, they won't cough them up for me. sorry.


	29. Anthropologist's Report 5

summary: doctor daniel jackson on the intricacies of translating an alien language into english...

disclaimer: don't own transformers, don't own daniel jackson, don't own fragging anything. whaaaaaa!

warnings: both human and transformer swear words.

note: sorry if this seems a bit long for a non-story part, but back in november when i first wrote my "Dragon of Dispair's Dissertation On Transformer Culture" (originally for my own reference only) this was one of the cornerstones -- one of the issues i paid the most attention to. and daniel, having a linguist's slant to both his anthropology and archaeology specialties refused to leave any of it out to make it shorter.

EDIT: first paragraph changed slightly because of a review from Coldpaws. thanks.

Anthropologist's Report 5 -- On the Intricacies of Language

Transformers and pronouns... Transformers are genderless. Those on earth right now use the pronouns "he" and "him" because they're research indicates that most earth languages default on the male and English, which is the language spoken most often by those around them doesn't have a genderless pronoun that doesn't also carry connotations of being an object rather than a person. I imagine that the pronoun situation would/will be different when speaking a language that has more options than the English 'he', 'she, and 'it'. Most Americans would prefer to perceive them as males and so they use the english male pronouns.

It's possible that one of the future Autobots might prefer the female pronouns. When I asked why, I was told that it would be an individual choice, much like their names. The reasons could vary as much as their reasons for choosing the English equivalent of their names would. It could be as trivial as the Autobot in question likes the way they sound better. There will be no physical difference between an Autobot that prefers being called female and one prefers male pronouns -- at least no more of a difference than between two different "male" transformers of different construction models.

There are a lot other words they use as nouns, which are not, in english, pronouns, (though in their own language they have the same function as pronouns do in english) when referring to each other and others of their species. The distinctions are sometimes subtle, but important.

First and most obvious are the words "Autobot" and "Decepticon" themselves. These terms describe a transformer by his faction. Both of these are have abbreviations -- 'Bot and 'Con, respectively. The abbreviations are actually an english reflection of a subtle insult in their own language. That's why the word 'Con is used by the Autobots more often than the word 'Bot (or at least the word "'Bot" when it's an abbreviation of "Autobot"). Few Autobots use the abbreviation/insult when referring to one of their own faction. Jazz did, but he had a, the word they use is "accent" though I don't believe that's perfectly accurate -- 'attitude' may be a better word, that softened the insult unless he was trying to be insulting. Bumblebee says that there are some Decepticons-- ones that hated everyone -- that use the insult without softening it to refer to ones of their own faction.

The English word 'bot is used in a more general sense as well. They decided, for some reason that as far as I could tell is basically a whim (or not a whim, but each of them says that if I want an explanation of the reason I would have had to ask Jazz, and that his answer might have made sense to me, but they doubted it), that their equivalent to "human" was "robot" as opposed to either "android" or "mechanoid", but since humans don't use the word "human" in conversation when indicating another they shorten it to "'bot" as an equivalent to "person".

'Bot used in this manner has no connotations of faction or design. What this means as far a human interaction is that when the Autobots use the word "'bot" like this, the 'bot in question could be an Autobot or a Decepticon, a fully independent robot like most of the Autobots or a drone like Scorponok, and have any functional configuration and that that function may or may not be reflected in their alternate forms and spark choices. It is the most general term used, and as such is at the same time the most neutral and the the one most likely to offer an unintended insult by grouping very different transformers together with others they may not want to be associated with linguistically.

Cybertronian (the name of their planet "Cybertron" the english suffix "-ian") can also be used like "robot" or "'bot", but more technically refers to all residents of their home planet, including forms of non-sentient "wildlife" which were random creations of the Allspark and have mostly died off since the Allspark was lost. Also, the Autobots on Earth now are consciously trying to abandon this term to reflect that Earth is their new home and only use it for things that will never be Earthen, such as when describing their language. As their new Earth specific term to replace "Cybertronian" they've officially adopted "Transformer" which is what they've heard humans occasionally refer to them as.

There is also the term "mech" -- again the reason for that term as opposed to any other is, to quote, "Jazz's fault" -- which also has no factional connotations, but is only used for fully independent 'bots, though those 'bots could be any functional configuration. If a transformer who prefers to be called by female pronouns lands, this will most likely be the corresponding term to be feminized. What that new term may or may not be will be chosen by the first feminine-preference transformer to land on Earth. "Mech" is not used for drones.

"Drone" is used for drones, all types of drones, of which there are four types.

The most distinct of the four types is the "Cassetticon" type. These are a sort of Decepticon drone that are each attached to their original creator as their master and will die if their master is killed. The word Cassetticon is the english equivalent of an adopted Decepticon word -- which is why the word contains the factional insult 'Con as part of it; the truly Decepticon equivalent would probably be closer to "Decepticon Cassette". As far as I can tell the usage of the english "cassette" was arbitrary. Bumblebee came up with it when they felt the need to explain Scorponok's new status to you, Secretary Keller.

When referring to a Cassetticon they will use the word "Cassetticon" (assuming they know the drone in question is a Cassette) rather than the word "drone" even though Cassetticons are drones. This is because if it is known that the drone is a Cassetticon, using the specific term immediately conveys four things about the enemy which are both weaknesses that can be taken advantage of and strengths that need to be worked around.

1) If the Cassetticon's master is killed, he will also die

2) A Cassetticon's death will backlash on his master

3) Cassetticons are usually parts of a team made up of the master and between two and ten drones. In the past that team might also include other members of the master's familiy unit, but as Decepticons in general don't form family units as easily as Autobots do all the remaining Cassetticon masters are loners.

4) All the members of a Cassetticon team will defend and avenge all the other members

This is important information to the Autobots and the reason they adopted a Decepticon word to distinguish this type of drone from the others. Otherwise the Autobot side of the Cybertronian language only distinguishes between sentient and non-sentient. They haven't come up with english equivalents for those because as far as human interaction is concerned, the only drones they've needed to refer to are the sentient Decepticon drones -- specifically Scorponok. The Autobots don't really have they ability to build their own non-sentient drones anymore, so they don't refer to them in English at all, leaving the word "drone" to describe sentient drones.

I'm told that their word for sentient drones also contains the abbreviated/insulting version of "Decepticon" -- reflecting of course that the Autobots don't build sentient drones.

There are two types of sentient drones other than Cassetticons -- one that can survive indefinitely without a master, and one that needs to find a new master within a length of time roughly equivalent to a year and a half or will die. Because the difference has no significance to the Autobots, they use the same word to describe both. Bumblebee tells me that the Decepticons have separate words for each. When I asked if he could tell me, he flicked the panels on his back -- a sort of dismissive shrug among those models that have such appendages -- and arbitrarily chose "Alpha-drone" and "Beta-drone". For the record: he referred to Scorponok as an Alpha-drone, one that can survive indefinitely without a master.

A drone is also described in terms of his shape. Or rather drones whose forms are based off of those of wildlife -- Cybertronian wildlife while on their home planet, though, like mechs, they can transcan a new wildlife form when landing on a new planet -- and don't have alternate forms are sometimes called "creature drones". The opposite, a drone whose form is closer to that of a mech's and has an alternate vehicle form, would be a "non-creature done" or just "drone". The breakdown according to shape continues in their own language, but further differences aren't linguistically important to humans and so the smaller categories don't have equivalents yet, and may never.

Mechs can also be described according to shape. The most commonly singled out shape is the seeker model. Seekers are transformers whose original alternate modes have a method of movement similar to Earth's jets and thus mostly will take the alternate forms of jets. Originally they continued the factional division and used "seeker-'Con" and "Autobot seeker", but sometime before I was hired, Bumblebee used the word in the presence of Sam Witwicky and Mikaela Banes and they informed them that "seeker-'Con" sounded weird and awkward, "Autobot seeker" was too long to use regularly, and they thought "seeker" was specific enough, since the only seeker that had ever been on Earth was Starscream.

Though this has recently changed slightly. When the two Autobot Seekers, Air Raid and Fireflight, landed, they decided that the the abbreviation "Decepti" was another English equivalent of the abbreviation "'Con" and started calling the Decepticon seekers "Decepti-jets" -- further insulting them by grouping them more firmly with human jets. The name the two use for themselves -- "Aerialbot" -- is a minefield of insult and politics I recommend us humans stay out of. I suggest using either "Aerials" or "Autobot seekers" or, best of all, their names, until the politics have been settled.

Other than that though, they've kept the shape-descriptors translated to English both general and factionless -- car-bot (here the contraction of "robot" rather than "Autobot"), seeker, flyer and triplechanger. Car-bot for all ground units. Seeker for jets. Flyer for cyclo-craft, hovercraft, and space shuttles. And triplechanger for those with two alternate forms -- usually a flight craft and a ground craft.

Note that under this very general system, both the tank-shaped Decepticon Captain Lennox describes and the car-shaped Autobots would be "car-bots" and some of the more high-strung Autobots may take a human grouping them together like that as an insult. Ironhide (who is the one that explained how this could be taken an insult, but is not one who believes it such -- at least not from humans) says that among those with grounded alternate modes without weapons, ie cars, being grouped with those with grounded alternate modes with weapons, ie tanks, is possibly offensive because most tanks are Decepticons. Those Autobots with tank alternate forms might take offense at being grouped with those with "helpless" forms.

One more point of interest on adapting to our language -- the Autobots are maintaining a sort of website on our Internet with more Cybertronian compatible downloads of several Earth languages -- including these noun and pronoun equivalents -- and their distribution around the world, along with any other information they feel a newly arrived Autobot might need even before they could join up with the main group. This information is not encrypted by their standards (I imagine a human might find it fairly difficult to decrypt) and any transformer capable of connecting to the Internet could access the information on this site. Therefore there is nothing there that has any possible objection to a Decepticon knowing about. It's almost entirely things that can already be found on the internet, just in a format more compatible with their systems in case a group without a covert-ops or communication specialist lands. An example of things that are not on the internet in other places are lists of common social blunders not to make, things not to call a human if you don't want Prime angry at you, and which secrecy protocols are in effect. The only names listed are the Decepticons' and their English designations.

end report

"Soldier's Guide to Alien Interaction" entry: A Glossary of English Terms That Have Been Kidnapped By Aliens

he/she/it -- Don't matter. call them what they want to be called and otherwise ignore it. You give them shit over it, someone's gonna give you shit over it.

Autobot -- The good guys. Don't say "'Bot" when you mean "Autobot". It's insulting. Even if the robots don't take offense, your superior officer's gonna slap a reprimand in your file.

Decepticons -- The bad guys. Go ahead and shorten this to "'Con". We don't mind if you insult these guys.

Robot -- Yes that's what they are. You are allowed to shorten "robot" to "'bot". My personal advice though is don't skirt the legalities and stick with more specific nouns. Safer that way.

Mech -- No idea what this is short for, but it's used for the big, human shaped ones. Note both "big" and "human shaped". And remember that "big" is relative -- the scorpion-bot is downright tiny to them.

Cassetticon -- bad news. If they refer to something like this, listen to them.

Drone -- This is for the ones that either aren't big or human shaped. Like the scorpion bot. Also: Creature drone. (the distinction should be self explanatory)

Seekers -- Those nasty mofos that fly like jets. Just because some are on our side don't make them anything other than nasty, just normally nasty to the 'Cons

Decepti-jet -- Semi-insulting way to refer to a Decepticon seeker.

Car-bot -- The ones with wheels. Yes even if "wheels" is closer to "tank treads" it's still true. Though you guys should just stick with using "mech". Dunno why, but my source says it's safer.

Recharge -- Shut down. Asleep. Seriously leave them alone.

Spark -- Heart and soul and other mushiness

Sparkling -- Anytime this comes up, you seriously want to ignore it. Even if it sounds like they're insulting you. Especially if it sounds like they're insulting you. The concept will break your brain, swear to god.

Alternate form or Alt form -- When they look like cars or trucks or planes instead of robots.

Primus -- Religious figure. No arguing religious theory with the robots.

Unicron -- No arguing religious theory with the alien robots.

Frag (fragging, fragged, fragger), Slag (slagging, slagged, slagger), Scrap (etc), glitch (etc), Pit -- Swearwords. Major fun times here.

fini

notes: i didn't mention mini-bot because that isn't a distinction the autobots have used yet with humans. they've mentioned that spy models are generally smaller, but haven't subgrouped them to humans.

the website is my way of smoothing over new autobots' knowing things like what english words are being used to describe a transformer concept (like 'spark' or 'frag') and the names of the decepticons on earth.

report was submitted not long after the air raid and fireflight land

on a more personal note -- next week is finals week. i will not be writing or updating. after that is spring break -- but since i'm going home for the break, i don't know if i'll have time between family matters to write or internet to update. if i can't i'll update after finals, but no guarantees...


	30. Fun and Games Interludes 1 through 4

summary: playtime with the giant alien robots from space...

disclaimer: you know the flipping drill

warnings: both humans and transformers swearing to their hearts'/sparks' content. as usual.

Replacement: Roads -- Fun and Games Interludes...

Number One -- "Plushy"

While almost everyone else seemed perfectly content to ignore it in that studious way that really meant that they were hyper aware of it and just pretending it wasn't there for the sake of their sanity, the two government agents stared. Goggled. Probably needed to put their eyes back into their sockets.

Beside him, Agent Simmons said, "I don't get it."

One of the robots made a sound something like television static crossed with glass shards rubbing against each other, modulated in a pattern that superficially resembled laughter. Scorponok the ex-Decepticon, and apparent owner, of the thing was laughing at them.

The thing was of course a floor pillow shaped like a tropical fish. Which the scorpion drone was cuddling like a child with his favorite plushy. If you took out "child" and replaced it with "possibly evil alien war machine" that could be a fairly good description of what was going on.

A laugh -- a human laugh -- made Tom turn to face the two teenagers. Sam and Mikaela were sprawled on the ground behind NBE-2 -- Bumblebee. Mikaela whispered something to Sam and the boy collapsed with laughter. Giggling she gestured for Tom to come over where they were. Simmons still stared at the Decepticon and his toy. Tom left him there -- based on past experience, he doubted the two kids would be as friendly with the other agent.

"He's been hauling it around for close to three weeks now," was Mikaela's greeting, "Optimus says they found it on a sidewalk with a sign saying it was free."

Beside her, Sam took another look at Simmons and promptly returned to laughing so hard he forgot to breathe.

Across the group, behind the big black NBE -- Ironhide right? -- the soldiers had set up a picnic. As Tom watched, Doctor Jackson finished his conversation with Optimus Prime and went over to them. He said a few words to them while he dug a sandwich out of their supplies, then wandered over to the spot where Scorponok cuddled with his fish pillow. Jackson said something to the scorpion and then sat on the pillow and petted the alien while he ate his sandwich. The anthropologist's actions had the side effect of drawing everyone's attention -- humans and NBEs alike -- to the two of them and the thing they'd been so studiously ignoring a moment earlier.

Tom could hear Simmons sputtering from here.

"Huh."

Tom and Mikaela both turned their attention to Sam. Mikaela nudged him questioningly.

"Not much -- just I think Daniel's the only one who'll touch Scorponok like that."

"Sam," she made sure he was looking at her, "what's strange is that he's brave enough to get that close at all."

"Yeah, you're right."

Tom also agreed.

A few minutes and a sandwich later, the anthropologist was making his way over to the three humans and Bumblebee.

Tom addressed Doctor Jackson before anyone else could. "Are you sure that was safe?"

Jackson ducked his head and adjusted his glasses. "Ah... from what I've heard, being right next to him is only marginally more dangerous than being fifty feet away. For us fragile humans at least." He quirked a somewhat ironic smile. "Besides, he's working so hard, I thought I'd help him."

Behind the glass lenses, Jackson's eyes glittered as he looked at Tom. Every line of voice tone and body language practically screamed "I know something you don't". Tom sighed and figured this was going to be the anthropologist's revenge for being vague at the time he was hired.

"Help him with what?"

"With what he's doing."

He did not sigh in frustration. He would not. It would be unbecoming of a government agent working on a secret project ensuring the safety of the entire world to allow a reaction that would indulge this person's childish revenge schemes. Unfortunately, from the way Doctor Jackson ducked his head to adjust his glasses again, something had given his feelings away, sigh or no sigh. "And what is he doing?"

Jackson turned to look at the ex-Decepticon who had dragged his stuffed fish over closer to Ironhide and the soldiers and was once again loudly and enthusiastically cuddling with it while Ironhide cursed. Captain Lennox and his team were laughing loudly at them both. Scorponok seemed to be responding as much to the soldiers' laughter as he did to Ironhide's cursing. "Hmm..." the anthropologist dropped the slightly mocking tone, "Several things, some of which I'm not sure he's aware of..." He trailed off.

Tom waited a moment for him to continue, then cleared his throat for attention. Doctor Jackson turned back to him.

"Hmm? Oh, right. Sorry. He's trying to annoy any of the Autobots who'll give him a reaction -- Ironhide mostly -- and at the same time trying to appear more harmless for the humans. Annoying the Autobots is partially because it's in his personality and he finds it fun, and partially because he's trying to figure out how annoying he can be before someone punishes him for it. Appearing harmless for the humans is because he figures that if he makes nice with us, the Autobots will accept him easier. He's probably right about that, except every time a human gets in striking range they all tense up, so he tries to be harmless." He paused then somewhat absently continued, to all appearances having forgotten that Tom was there. "He's also enjoying having something that's his, that no one will take away from him -- well Ironhide's threatened to, but that's because he's being annoying -- or get mad if he ruins it."

He watched the scorpion give the fish a toss that landed it a bit closer to the group of humans then pounce to cuddle the thing again, subtly working his way closer to the soldiers than Ironhide had been allowing him to be. He had to admit that he could see him trying to be annoying, but the part about the humans Tom wouldn't have noticed without it being pointed out. Or noticed when he deliberately ground the thing into the dirt, then looked around as though checking if anyone cared that he'd just gotten the pseudo-plushie dirtier.

No one did. In fact it seemed like no one who didn't know to watch for it had even seen.

Something in Tom's mind _shifted._ He'd been thinking of Scorponok's defection in terms of Optimus Prime's apparent simple willingness to give the drone a chance -- there was no guarantee that the defection had been genuine, and he hadn't even been able to provide and information on the Decepticons in return. Tom had thought that the only reason the United States government didn't insist on disposing of the thing was because the Autobots were and essentially an independent government that wasn't willing to give over their prisoner of war. Sure he'd been told the information about drones that had been provided, but the implications hadn't really sunk in.

Scorponok wasn't just a defector -- he was a refugee.

fini fun and games interlude one

Number Two -- "Dominos"

Will stuck his head into one of the (human) rec rooms. The only occupants were a pair so absorbed in their pool game that they probably wouldn't notice anything except a full Decepticon attack. So he pulled out and leaned against the wall outside the door, wondering where everyone could have gone.

Ironhide had wanted to talk to Optimus in person. About what Will didn't know since the two of them had met up, transformed and driven into the desert without him. Optimus had apologized though. But that still left Will wandering around the base with nothing to do.

Daniel wasn't in his base office, which wasn't unusual because the anthropologist spent most of his time with one of the 'bots, and did most of his paperwork at his apartment. Ratchet wasn't in the 'bot's med area, and according to the gate guard probably wasn't even on base. The other human rec room had been just as abandoned, and the usual unofficial hang outs for both humans and 'bots had been suspiciously empty.

A sound caught his attention, one that didn't fit with those made by personnel going about their duties. Figuring there wasn't really any harm (and around here it probably had something to do with the Autobots anyway), he went to go check it out.

The sound, which quickly multiplied into sounds, led him to one of the parking lots -- on he hadn't checked yet. This one had been emptied of cars and all the off-duty personnel were gathered around the edge, watching what was going on in the center. Will heard them discussing and taking bets, but otherwise tried to figure out what was going on.

Air Raid, Fireflight, Scorponok and a Navy officer -- Lieutenent-Commander... what was his name ... Rossio! -- and an indeterminate number of foam boogie boards completed the scene. Five piles, one apparently owned by each of the four people and one way off to the side. There was also a pattern laid out in the center. The boards had dots and lines painted on them, which Will knew should be cluing him into what was going on, but it totally escaped him.

Until Air Raid choose a boogie board from his pile and smugly placed it in the pattern, painted side up. Dominoes! They were playing Dominoes.

Rossio's turn aparently came after Air Raid's because he left his pile face down to walk around the pattern, examining it from every angle, before going to the extra pile and taking one without looking at it until he was back at his own pile. Apparently this one was good because he immediately placed it face up in the pattern. Air Raid and Fireflight snickered.

Scorponok also had to walk around the pattern to see it, but his own pile had one that worked and clicking triumphantly he added to the pattern. Will noticed that carrying the improvised domino was more awkward for him than if was for Rossio, but he managed. He also noticed that the bug's pile was the smallest.

Fireflight didn't have to move to either to see the pattern or reach the extra pile and chose three before he found one to place.

Snickering Will, tapped the nearest soldier.

They exchanged salutes, and he asked, "What got this started?"

The soldier looked amused as he answered. "Sir. Apparently Air Raid and Fireflight got bored enough to try and get various people to play some games with them. A few days ago they had a seeker sized version of Pick-Up Sticks," he gestured to a nearby pile of metal pipes, "but that was too awkward to play with humans, so they _somehow_ convinced the commander to buy the boogie boards and modify them."

The emphasis on _somehow_ made Will think that "somehow" probably equated to "by being obnoxious and disruptive" -- something they both seemed to excel at and thrive on.

So two fifty or sixty foot tall alien airplane-robots, a giant metal scorpion shaped assassin, and a Navy Lt. Commander were playing dominos with a set of modified boogie boards in a parking lot on an Air Force base. Logically Will, who had been there when this had all started and who _lived_ with Ironhide, thought he shouldn't be finding this as weird as he was.

But he could either accept it or go bury his head in the sand. And Scorponok would probably find him anyway if buried himself.

"So what are the current odds on who's going to win?"

fini fun and games interlude two

Number Three -- "Hide and Seek"

Sergeant Mattox had, in a phrase, gotten used to the alien robots. Mostly. He'd been put through the "Meet, Greet, and Remember Not To Drop Your Gun" orientation (as it had been called by the veterans after the fact) and no longer had hysterics at the thought of Giant Alien Robots. Or the fact that they played frisbee.

And listened to Christmas music.

(Despite having been forewarned about the possibility, he'd still nearly fainted the first time he'd walked into a rec room to find that Scorponok had wedged himself through the doorway to take over the stereo system, with an obscenely cheery version of "Joy to the World" making it hard to think.)

But he was still more intimidated by them than was the norm among the more experienced personnel. As a result, he was given all sorts of unofficial errands that might have been considered hazing, if it weren't for the fact that the aliens were real.

Like now.

He knocked on the door in front of him.

"Come in," the office's owner called, sounding distracted. Mattox winced at the thought that he might be interrupting something, but he need to ask something.

"Doctor Jackson?"

Jackson looked up from the notebook where he was drawing what looked like a diagram of something. "Yes ... Sergeant Mattox?"

"I was wondering if you had any idea where to find the new one -- Mirage? I've looked everywhere I could think of."

The Autobots' anthropologist chewed a bit on his pen in thought. "No. If he's on base though, Ratchet should be able to help you. Last I heard he was doing inventory on their medical supplies."

Ratchet. Right.

Somehow Sergeant Mattox managed to exit the office with a small bit of his dignity intact. But he wasn't sure he wanted to go confront the Autobots' medic for this. Despite how shocked he'd been the first time he'd seen Ironhide, the black Autobot was relatively easy to get used to. He was a soldier -- a warrior -- it made sense that he would be intimidating. But Ratchet was a _medic_ and he intimidated even the other Autobots. He was snarly and he hit them, and to be perfectly frank, his bedside manner _sucked_. Whenever someone was brave enough to ask Doctor Jackson if he knew why the medic was like that, all they got was a "he wasn't programmed for war". No one had been brave enough to ask one of the Autobots, much less Ratchet himself.

He hesitated at the gate to the fenced off area used as the Autobot repair bay. The door to the storage warehouse that was used to house the Autobots' medical supplies was inside. It was set up that way so that there was a minimal delay in fetching necessary supplies. The med bay was officially off limits to humans, but that wasn't what was making Mattox hesitate -- the rule was more to keep humans from being accidently injured in an emergency, and for the privacy of recovering patients, and to prevent loitering in the area, not because the Autobots didn't want humans around.

What made him hesitate was the sign. It was about twice the size of the average dinner table, said "Unless you're bleeding out from your primary energon lines or otherwise dying, stay the frag out of my med bay" (in English and in several other languages at least one of which obviously wasn't human), and hadn't been there the last time Mattox had looked.

It didn't give Mattox any confidence in braving the lion's den.

"Doctor Jackson sent me here," he reminded himself, opening the gate and heading to the warehouse. Hopefully it would be enough to redirect the grumpy alien medic's temper.

"Ratchet," he called as he peeked into the open vehicle door to the warehouse.

The lime green robot looked up from the... thing in front of him. He did not seem like he was in a good mood. "What the slag do you want?"

"DoctorJacksonsentme!" The medic just waited. "I'm looking for Mirage. He said you'd be able to find him."

Ratchet's eye--optics flickered in a way Mattox found very unnerving, then said, "He's parked outside of the mess hall, on the north side. Recharging, so he won't answer anything that isn't an emergency call." His voice swung upwards at the end of the sentence, making it a question.

"No -- I just got voluntold to put up the sign." He held up the "Alien Racecar Parking Only" sign to demonstrate.

The Autobot just grunted and turned back to the thing he'd been examining earlier. Sergeant Mattox supposed that meant he was dismissed.

He went over to the north side of the mess hall. No cars, alien race cars or otherwise. Slightly frustrated, Mattox stomped along the walls thinking he was getting very tired of this hazing crap --

-- And promptly tripped over thin air.

"What the fu--" the rest of the curse died as the air shimmered and fell away, revealing a blue and white race car. It transformed and all Mattox could do was squeak out, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

The robot just _looked_ at him for a long moment, then made a weird noise in his engine before folding back up into his race car form. The air shimmered again and the car was gone.

When his brain could finally do something other than run in panicked little circles of "WTF -- invisible! -- Itrippedonhim -- WTF", he hurriedly attached the sign to the near outer wall of the mess hall, and made a strategic retreat. Dignity be damned.

Though he did make sure he didn't trip over the invisible Autobot on his way past.

An hour later a second sign joined the first on the wall: "Caution -- Invisible Tripping Hazard."

fini fun and games interlude three

note: it's been a very long time, so for those of you who don't remember -- mattox is the rookie sergeant that went into hysterics at the end of "perceptions". i'm so mean to him.

note2: the next one was inspired by a review from Omi721. special thanks to Omi721. lookie, lookie, lookie -- i finally pinned down a decepti-muse, for all of five flipping minutes, but still...

Number Four -- "Tag"

Barricade didn't look up at the little purple pest as he strutted into the room. It reminded him of one of those stupid birds with the disgustingly large tails trying to impress one of the females of its species. He hated the comparison. Hated that he'd been on this planet long enough to even make the comparison.

And he hated Rumble.

He hated all of them. He hadn't said as much in the mere days since the communications officer and his symbiots had landed, but they all knew Barricade hated them. But they were Decepticons -- they wouldn't do anything about it unless Barricade worked up the nerve to do something with his hate.

"You're stupid."

Barricade just glared at him.

"You were supposed to protect Frenzy, and he died."

"Frenzy lost to a bunch of pathetic squishies," A pause, then with an extra dose of malice, he added, "According to the squishies' reports afterwards, the frenetic little glitch decapitated himself with his own shuriken."

Mechanisms in the drone's arms slid and shifted -- half forming a set of piledrivers before sliding back into place.

Ooo... did I hit a nerve, Barricade thought, then immediately hated the thought as that was a pathetic human saying.

"At least he didn't fail at being a Decepticon, slagsucker." Rumble hissed.

"I wasn't aware failure _got_ more dramatic than unintended suicide during what should have been the easiest battle he'd ever been in," Barricade growled dismissively, thinking that would work Rumble into a real, well, frenzy.

But Rumble didn't take the bait. Instead he just grinned smarmily at the black and white. "Then why did Scorponok decide _Optimus_ _Prime_ made a better Decepticon than you?"

Barricade contemplated his claws. Deactivation at the hands of this cassetticon's master just might be worth it just to shut this glitch up. Light gleamed off the sharp metal as he very carefully weighed the pros and cons.

"Ooo... did I hit a nerve?"

That. Was. _It_.

He looked into Rumble's optics. With one last smirk, the cassette turned, already transforming, and bolted. Barricade was less than a tick behind him.

Because in addition to hating the glitch, Barricade was a Decepticon who loved to chase -- and now Rumble was _running_.

fini fun and games interlude four

notes: all of these were written intending for them to be the starting points to their own pieces, but i never could really pin down more than what was there. and since they were each too short to post on their own, i just hung on to them. until i wrote the last one sometime last week, put it aside, came back to it and realized i had four snippets on a general theme (if you squinted). so i polished up each of their endings, put them all in the same document and here they are. hope you found them fun.

timing -- "plushy" is at least three weeks after "secrets". "dominos" is a little bit after "kodak moment". "hide and seek" and "tag" are both just a few days after "chimera".

finally -- i hope that quite a few of you will be sorry to hear this, and i'm sorry and saddened to have to say it, but i came to the realization over spring break that i'm almost done with "replacement: roads". four, maybe as many as six chapter/stories left and i will have said everything i wanted to say with it. unless i get some truly heavy inspiration, "roads" will not be continued any further into the future -- well i do have one plot bunny for a sequelish sort of fic, but it won't be anything like the rest of "roads" if i ever write and post it. all of you who have reviewed, alerted, favorited and otherwise corresponded have been an unending source of encouragement and i don't think i would have ever gotten everything out without you. seriously you guys are all awesome, each and every one of you. thanks.


	31. Strength

summary: replacement sequel. sometimes bad things happen. and sometimes there are no good choices.

disclaimer: how many times have i said this already?

warnings: battle violence. decpticons being mean. somewhat minor cruelty to starscream. at least one transformer swearword.

Replacement: Roads--Strength

(We see your secret.)

Scorponok ignored the words. They didn't matter. All that mattered -- all that ever mattered -- was his loyalty to his master and turning his master's enemies into scrap metal.

(It cannot be hidden from us.)

Today he grappled with Ravage. As the robotic cat leaped at him, Scorponok tried to use the blades on his claw-cannons to knock him out of his spring. But Ravage was fast and put two sets of deep cuts in his armor. He retaliated with a tail-strike that put a serious gash across the cat's shoulder and knocked him away. Scorponok's claw-cannons were instantly online. The first shot hit Ravage in the hind leg as he dodged, the second missed entirely, and the cat began to bring his own cannons up. Scorponok burrowed as Ravage started shooting and felt the third shot from the cat's much faster gun connect with his tail. Then he was underground. Ravage could not touch him here.

(You cannot hide from us.)

Something impacted with the ground and it shook. The vibrations scrambled Scorponok's sensitive seismic- and vibro-sensors. Panicked, he struggled out of the dirt. Instinctively, he didn't allow his sensors the moment they needed to recover. He just spun and shot, almost blindly. A sound a human would have said was a tire backfiring let him know he'd connected. His sensors finished recalibrating and he recognized Rumble, who was now advancing on him with his piledrivers. The ground wouldn't be safe until he was dealt with. He let off another shot with a claw-cannon. It went wide as Ravage latched onto one of his legs from behind him. He screeched and spun, Trying to dislodge the cat. He felt Ravage slip, but before he could take advantage, Rumble descended on him with his piledrivers.

(You are once again ours.)

Scorponok knew he was in trouble when he came back online in a box. The box was smallish and made of blueish metal. He rebooted his sensors and tried to get a picture of what might be outside his prison -- static from his standard sensors and sonar only told him the size and shape of the box. There was a sensor and communications block up.

He ran diagnostics to assess his injuries. He had a scorch mark on his tail from Ravage's cannon. Scores in his armor from the cat's claws. His leg where Ravage had grabbed him had been crushed -- that would need a medic. He folded it up so that it would not affect his maneuverability. Doing so was painful, yet worth it if there was any sort of combat required to escape. There was dented armor and broken blades from Rumble's piledrivers. Both his claw-cannons were offline -- one had been switched off by his captors, the other damaged by Rumble. He checked the stinger on his tail and found it, at least, was fully functional.

"Is it online yet?" The words were Cybertronian. The voice was Starscream's.

"Drone status: online." That was Soundwave. Scorponok rattled his armor plates to make an aggressive rattle-hiss sound.

"Good. Inform it that it's is to transmit its link codes to me."

Soundwave didn't bother relaying the message -- he knew Scorponok would hear what was being said. My Master is Optimus Prime, he silently affirmed within his processor, knowing the telepathic Decepticon would hear it. As loudly as he could, he prepped his tail-stinger to strike. He conjured a memory of a mech he'd killed in battle and replaced the memory of the nameless Autobot with an image of Starscream.

"Offer: refused."

"It knows the consequences, I assume."

Scorponok replaced the visual of killing Starscream with one of the blue and white Autobot spy killing Ravage. He took care and built it pixel by pixel, making the fantasy as real as memory. For added effect he added a bit of his memory of when Blackout was killed -- what it felt like to have a link severed by death. He was rewarded by the sense of Soundwave's telepathic presence flinching and static-laughed viciously.

"Consequences: known." Was all he told Starscream.

"Very well. Open the box."

The box opened just enough for Starscream's hand to slip inside. Scorponok rattled aggressively and struck the hand with his one real functioning weapon. Starscream cursed and Scorponok static-laughed -- he'd felt the ripping of thin armor, the tearing of wires and small pipes. His stinger had streaks of blue energon and clear coolant on it.

The next time the hand appeared, Starscream didn't give him a chance to strike -- he grabbed him by the tail and violently dragged him out of the box. Hanging from Starscream's fist, Scorponok curled up and bit his captor, much harder than he'd ever bit one of the Autobots. The seeker cursed and shook his captive, but unlike Ironhide didn't drop him. The scorpion drone just curled up again and this time he didn't' just bite, he chewed at what he could reach of the delicate insides of his captors hand. The chemo-sensors in his mouth tasted energon, coolant, and lubricants.

"Lower the jamming field so I can bind this glitch."

"Inadvisable. Location: not secure against transmissions."

"I don't care."

Scorponok continued to chew on Starscream's hand. He managed to latch onto a muscular cable just before the seeker shook him again. The force of the shake ripped the cable and Scorponok was flung to the floor, static-laughing. Starscream wouldn't be using that hand until it was repaired. Some fifty feet away he regained his balance, splayed his five functional legs to brace for a jump, loudly prepped his tail for another strike and rattle-hissed at the two Decepticons.

"Soundwave..." Starscream almost growled as he stalked toward the aggressive drone.

The backlash from suddenly being able to see through sensors still set to their highest sensitivity blinded him. Desperately he tried to block Starscream from his systems and sent out a call of his own. The pathway he followed was familiar and always ended in a dead end. He meant it as a good bye and a warning, knowing his offer would not be accepted.

Scorponok felt his command links lock and he shrieked, thinking that Starscream had managed already to get around the system blocks. Then his audios registered Starscream's own furious shriek.

_I'm sorry. We'll be there soon._ The gentle voice that whispered across the command link was definitely not Starscream's. Rattle-hissing with fierce, vicious glee he turned his full attention to his Master's enemies: Starscream furiously readying his guns and Soundwave watching impassively. Nothing mattered except his loyalty to his master and turning his master's enemies to scrap metal. With a war-shriek, Scorponok leaped at Starscream and felt the seeker's first shot rip through his armor.

_I will die yours, Master._

fini

notes: eeep! it's a cliffhanger. -hides-

honestly i had this written and edited not long after "conversation three" and decided not to post it because i wanted other stuff to happen before i took away everyone's suspense. of course optimus's guilt trip tried overriding everything and i had a horrible time writing anything that didn't involve him melting into a puddle of remorseful goo.

but i finally made it happen. i tried making it happen in "choice" and couldn't, so here it is some thirty chapters later. yay!


	32. Steps, redux

summary: pre-earth. blackout accepts scorponok.

disclaimer: don't own. wouldn't want to -- primus! the mental fan-muse versions are more than enough trouble...

warnings: none, surprisingly

note: surprise early update... just not the one you were all hoping for. muahahah! don't worry the resolution to the cliffhanger is still scheduled to come out when i finish proof-reading it, or friday, whichever comes first.

Replacement: Roads -- Steps, redux

Despite the dents and tears in his armor from the fight with Longhaul, Blackout was still laughing somewhat drunkenly -- though there hadn't been enough high grade to get drunk on, not after it had gotten spilled at the beginning of the fight -- when he returned to his quarters. Disgustingly arrogant seeker he might be, but Skywarp had some good ideas, and was just stupid enough be convinced to use his teleportation to help Blackout set the traps. Too bad he wasn't stupid enough to leave evidence of himself behind -- though after a vorn of targeting the Constructicons, they probably wouldn't believe anyone but Blackout was behind the prank even if Skywarp got himself caught red-handed.

He locked the door. Then engaged several extra layers of security that were definitely non-regulation. Even if several other of the Constructicons thought the prank itself funny -- Mixmaster and Scavenger -- and might head off further retaliation because of it, Blackout had injured Longhaul in the ensuing fight. Which meant Blackout seriously needed to guard his quarters. Including using the technically illegal alarm system webbing the walls, ceiling and floor with wires, considering Mixmaster's love for acids. That had been expensive to set up.

Ah, well, such were the dangers of messing with the ship's resident gestalt. Nothing new, and nothing that would keep him from pulling something else in a few orns. Maybe next time he'd target Hook. That would be funny.

Rather settling on the recharge plate -- the first thing an enemy would target if he broke into someone's quarters, and as such Blackout never used the thing -- he carefully, because of his rotors, leaned against the most secure wall with a storage crate hiding him from view from the door. The comfort of the heated plate wasn't worth being a target. His self-satified mood followed him into recharge.

Vibration hitting his rotors brought him out of recharge much later. Instantly alert -- he was expecting retaliation from the Constructicons after all -- he didn't switch on his optics less the glow give his position away in the dark and scanned the room for a possible source. It wasn't in his nature to shoot before he knew what he was shooting at -- at least not until something shot him first.

Something was there on top of his recharge plate, another Decepticon, and it was the source of the steady vibrations. Sonar pulses, not just movement. But shielding kept him from getting anything else from the scanners.

Krrrrr-click!

A deliberate sound. Blackout wasn't sure what to make of it.

Breems went by and no attack materialized. Cautiously Blackout onlined his optics.

Something small with four red optics crouched on the plate, staring at him. A drone. One that had gotten into his quarters without tripping any of the non-standard alarms that had been set -- an assassin. Weapons whirred to life.

Still the drone did nothing but flicker its optics in pairs.

Which was why Blackout didn't shoot. Forget messing with the Constructicons, he'd be in deep slag if he shot a drone. And since he didn't recognize it, there was a possibility it was a cassette. At least if he waited until the thing attacked him, he could claim self-defense. It wouldn't help him against the drone's master, but then the rest of the ship's crew wouldn't help hunt him down.

Suddenly he was tired of not being able to see the thing properly and ordered, "Lights, twenty percent."

Low lighting filled the space and the drone squeaked.

It was an arthropod shaped creature drone.

Krrrr-click!

This time the sound was accompanied by the ping of a new program hitting his communications system. Blackout unintentionally brightened his optics in surprise.

Cautiously he opened the transmitted program. Then grinned maliciously. If nothing else this was going to make pranking the Constructicons that much more fun.

"Wake me if anyone tries to get in here." Blackout paid attention to the way his command resonated down the newly created link. It was a heady sensation, addictive, better than overcharging on good high grade or getting away with a good prank, the feeling of power over this creature.

_Yes, Master._

fini

notes: requested by Gloria Stone -- wanted to know how blackout reacted to scorponok when he was chosen as his master. as such this is a direct sequel to "steps".

i actually wasn't sure i'd get this done before finishing the story arc for good. i actually started trying to work on this right after i got the request, but in addition to my decepti-muses generally playing hide and seek better than mirage, i think my blackout-muse is bi-polar. he wavers between the mood seen here and extremely depressed that he got killed in the movie. so in addition to having to track him down every time i wanted to work on it, i had to wait for him to be in the right mood. grr.


	33. Anthropologist's Report 6

summary: daniel's thoughts on transformer families, part two

disclaimer: recognizable characters and concepts aren't mine...

warnings: cussing in the second part

Anthropologist's report 6 -- On the Nature of the Family Units of Sentient Machines From Space, redux

In my last report on transformer families I mentioned that, though most transformer family relationships are built closer to the lines of human friendships, there were very few family units that had been built and designed as family units -- "Brothers created" was the term they used.

I didn't try to explain what that meant in the previous report for two reasons. First is that that report was focused more on the adoption of humans into the Autobots' family. And second, at the time I couldn't grasp what this meant because though "brothers created" is probably an accurate term as they understand the definition, there is no human equivalent.

Since the two Autobot seekers, Air Raid and Fireflight, arrived, I've been able to ask questions to partially clarify the matter.

But before we can get into the more complicated variations of transformer families, I think a clearer definition of transformer sparks is in order. You know from my report on their usage of English words that "spark" is the the English term they chose to refer to their souls. Now the reason the term "spark" was chosen instead of "soul" is that transformer sparks are nothing like human souls. That's not to say that transformers are soulless, in that they lack morals or are defined completely by their programing the way a machine is. The difference is in the definition of the terms, not in a moralistic sense.

A human's soul is a spiritual construction, immaterial and believed to be immortal. Individually a human's definition soul is closely linked with the individual's religion or philosophy.

A transformer's spark on the other hand is a physical and quantifiable part of their physiology. On the surface that seems like a such a simple concept, but the ramifications are so alien that it's very hard to grasp. And most of the more complicated familial relationships are based on linking or sharing sparks on one level or another. Can you imagine literally sharing souls with another person, to the point that the only difference between yourself and that person is perceptional, and yet maintaining a definition of self? I can't.

So how this relates to transformer families -- the five Autobots that first landed on Earth shared a family bond that could be compared to a group of intimately close human friends. Such family bonds do not involve the sparks except in that the spark defines a transformer's personality, and such family units form among compatible personalities.

The second level of intimacy in family units, and the first level of creating family units from creation, is where a group of transformers were designed by their creator to stay and work together. This also doesn't involve the sparks, except that somehow there was a way to request of the Allspark sparks that had compatible personalities, which insured the family would stay together without more intimate bonds.

Next is the first situation that involves sparks in a real significant way: "Bonded" and "gestalt-bonded". This is when two, or more, transformers in one of the two family situations above decide that they are compatible enough to share their sparks. The difference between "bonded" and "gestalt-bonded" is, as far as I can tell at this time, in the intent of the bond, the expectation in the relationship between the involved transformers.

A Cassetticon's bond with his master is also a sort of spark bond. The Autobots don't know the exact mechanics involved to produce the effects it does, but they say that the backlashing effect is only possible with a spark bond of some kind.

Gestalts are a variation on the created family group, except instead of just asking the Allspark for compatible personalities and programming them to act as a team, they are bonded before being activated. Such individuals never have a definition of self that doesn't include their brothers. And not only can they not imagine what it's like for their souls to be completely separate from each other's, most can't imagine wanting to. The linking of their sparks allows them to know that the others are alive at any distance, even if the rest of their status is unknown. Each member is also irreplaceable. If one is killed, that mech cannot be replaced in the family unit. The remaining members are still a gestalt, but a broken one. Both Air Raid and Fireflight talked about broken gestalts as though it were the worst fate imaginable.

Air Raid and Fireflight are two members of a five person gestalt -- the other three are alive, presumably together, and most likely coming here.

What I still don't understand is the reason behind creating gestalt families. I'm told that gestalts are especially useful in a battle, and creating them became much more common on both sides since the war broke out. But it sounds like gestalt families have always existed and their usefulness as battle units just made them more common.

What the Autobots call "twins" is even more intimate. Twins are rare -- the Autobots only know of three sets which may or may not still be alive. Twins happen when a single spark splits into two before being placed in a shell. Though they are each a different person, with distinct personalities, they are each half of the same spark. One mentioned consequence of this is that twinned sparks need to be placed in similar shells or they drive each other crazy. Other consequences aren't often discernible by non-twins, and all documentation has been obliterated by the war.

Rather sparse on the details, I know. Strange as it sounds though, one thing that Autobots do share with humans is the fact that familial concepts are the basis of their culture. Nothing can be considered without also considering one 'bot's relationship to another's.

fini report

recorded transmission during a training battle...

(begin recording)

F-16 Pilot 1: Fuck!

F-16 Pilot 2: What the --!

(pause)

F-16 Pilot 3: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot! Thought they were on our side this go-round!

F-16 Wing Commander: They are! Fireflight's just a BIRDBRAIN!

Air Raid: Pay attention, 'Flight!

Fireflight: I'm sorry. I thought I saw something.

Air Raid: Shiny, sparkly or just an interesting color?

Fireflight: Frag off.

Air Raid: Or have you finally suffered a total cognitive function failure? Glitch in your visual cortex?

Fireflight: Kiss my tailpipe.

Air Raid: Make me, you gear-stripped little retrorat

Fireflight: Fine, slagger.

(plasma fire)

F-16 Pilot 2: Fuck.

F-22 Pilot: (laughing) You can say that again.

F-16 Wing Commander: You. Off this channel.

Base Control: Status Report!

F-16 Pilot 3: SNAFU.

F-16 Wing Commander: Air Raid and Fireflight got into another fight.

Base Control: (sigh) Training mission ended. Return.

F-16 Wing Commander: Copy.

F-22 Wing Commander: Copy.

(transformation sound) (CRASH!)

Fireflight: Fragging Primus, Raid, what -- ?

Air Raid: Can't shoot me now!

F-22 Pilot: Holy shit! Did -- ?

F-16 Pilot 3: -- Air Raid just crash into and grab Fireflight? Yes he did.

Fireflight: (screech!) --gged spawn of a -- (screech!) --ticon and a microwave!

Air Raid: (laughter)

F-16 Pilot 2: You can just feel the brotherly love.

(turbines shriek) (CRASH!!)

(pause)

F-16 Pilot 1: Ouch. Hope their medic's in a good mood.

F-16 Pilot 3: Ratchet? Never.

Fireflight: (static-groan) I hope you're happy with yourself.

Air Raid: (snicker)

(end recording)

notes: i know the recording doesn't have all that much to do with the report, but i wanted to include it and there isn't going to be another place to put it. yes, air raid just pulled a warped version of jet judo on fireflight.


	34. Aftermath

summary: a pair of skirmishes with the decepticons have shifted the dynamics among the autobots and now they need to sort out the aftermath

disclaimer: today class, we will be examining the definition of "FANfiction"...

warnings: transformer cussing and Ironhide's rather violent thoughts

note: here's the update you were all waiting for...

Replacement: Roads -- Aftermath

This battle had been brief and vicious. Neither side was ready for another fight yet, but the Decepticons had been worse off and the Autobots had their human allies. Optimus had been livid when it had become clear that the only purpose for the initial attack was to drone-nap Scorponok, and his urgency and anger had been felt by all the Autobots and their allies -- whether they cared about rescuing Scorponok or not. In the face of that, Starscream, Soundwave, and their cronies had retreated pretty fragging fast.

Bumblebee was doing what he could with a couple of shots from Blitzwing in Ironhide's leg, so he watched Optimus pace around Ratchet repairing Scorponok like an angry guard dog. Ironhide had served with Prime since he was sparked and knew something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what, though it was pretty fragging obvious it had to do with Scorponok.

Cliffjumper had taken damage mostly from Ravage and Rumble. Mirage, the only Autobot who hadn't taken any damage in either of the recent skirmishes, was seeing too him, since he and Bumblebee had the most experience with first aid on spy models, other than Ratchet. Ironhide winced as Cliffjumper's voice was raised over the general clammer.

"I still don't know why we had to rescue the hateful little thing. Should have just left the Decepticon with the Decepticons."

It was the absolute worst thing he could have said, Ironhide could see, as he watched Prime stop pacing and tense. He turned his furious gaze on the mini-bot and the weapon specialist could see a twitch as he restrained himself from reaching for a weapon.

Mirage glanced up at the furious Autobot leader and though the anger wasn't directed at him he flickered out of then back into visibility as he fought his programming that said hide from the possible danger. He murmured something to the orange 'bot Ironhide couldn't hear. Cliffjumper looked up at Prime and his optics flickered in shock. Ironhide could understand how he felt. Optimus had always defended the drone physically and from threats, but had never infringed on either Ironhide's or Cliffjumper's right to think or speak of him as a Decepticon. Never reacted to any of their comments with true anger.

It took more than words to make Prime this angry.

Which meant Prime was already angry -- angry at something more than the battle or the Decepticons -- and something about Cliffjumper calling Scorponok a Decepticon had made the mini-bot a target for that anger. Sure, the way Cliffjumper had worded it had been fragging harsh, but Ironhide had to admit to the return of his own suspicions. Fraggit, it wasn't like Starscream would pass up the chance to try --

"I'm going ta shove the virus-infested, traitorous, rusting, Pit-spawned, gear-slipped little retrorat logic circuits first into the nearest recycling compactor." Never mind the nearest suitable compactor was probably on the Ark, somewhere in a solar orbit. He'd improvise, if necessary.

"Ironhide?"

Fraggit, had he said that out loud? "Referring ta Starscream, Bumblebee. Nothing ta worry about."

Since randomly threatening Decepticons wasn't unusual for Ironhide, Bumblebee went back to giving Ironhide the use of his limb back, at least enough to transform and get back to the base where Ratchet could see to him.

Meanwhile, the focus of those with the attention to spare, human and Autobot alike, Optimus stalked stiffly over to Cliffjumper and loomed. From a 'bot the size of Prime, the effect was intimidating, to say the least. "Do not," he said in the tone of voice that made perfect strangers hasten to obey and hardened Decepticons cringe without any implication of threat, "refer to Scorponok as a Decepticon again."

Without waiting for a response, Optimus returned to pacing around Ratchet and Scorponok. Cliffjumper didn't look like he knew how to respond anyway.

888

Ironhide peeked around the medical recovery area -- little more than a fenced off parking lot next to the Autobots' storage warehouse on the base with a few concrete slabs for Ratchet to work on -- looking for the medic. And making sure Prime wasn't anywhere near, though the last time he'd seen Prime he'd been in truck form out in the desert and hadn't looked like he was going to move anytime soon.

Scorponok was laid out across a concrete slab meant for a 'bot Prime's size. Ratchet was there, monitoring the drone with his built in scanners.

"Ratchet...you got a breem?"

Ratchet turned and Ironhide knew those scans had just been turned on him. "I can't see anything wrong with you. Go away." His voice was weary rather than threatening though.

It was true. All the other injuries had been taken care of. Scorponok was Ratchet's last patient. This was the first time Ironhide had seen the bug up close and even mostly repaired he looked like he'd been bad off. Not surprising -- the drone'd been inside with Starscream and Soudwave, still trying to fight them, when the Autobots had gotten there.

"Surprised you managed to chase Prime off, considering the way he was hovering."

Ratchet smirked. "Jealous?"

"Maybe." Having successfully carried out a short conversation without being threatened, Ironhide moved all the way into the the lot. "How is he?" He gestured at the bug.

Ratchet made a sighing sound, then immediately looked annoyed at himself. Ironhide very carefully did not snicker. "Better than he should be doing. His self-repair is amazingly efficient."

Ironhide nodded. That made sense. Will had said the bug had gotten his tail shot off in Qatar -- the military had still had the pieces up until a year ago, though now they were in with the rest of the Autobots' spare parts -- but six months later when he'd approached Optimus his tail had been complete.

He shifted his systems a bit to make a sound like a couple of rocks grinding against each other -- the equivalent of a sigh for his design model (and Ratchet's), and it earned him a look from Ratchet, though since he hadn't snickered at Ratchet before, the medic couldn't be sure it had been on purpose. "I don't want ta start sounding like a broken record from a year ago unless I'm sure...'cause the bug's kinda grown on me..."

"Grown like a rust infection, I'm sure. What's your point?"

Might as well. "Is there any way for you check whether his command link's active?"

The medic's optics dimmed a bit, but his focus sharpened. "You think Starscream or Soundwave managed to bind him."

"They had him for long enough. And Prime's being defensive over the issue. Just if he's an enemy again, I'd like ta know it."

Ratchet continued to gaze at him without changing expression. Ironhide did not fidget, but it was a near thing. He was aware that this was the first time he'd admitted to anyone that he didn't think of the scorpion-bot as an enemy -- though he was sure it had been obvious. He certainly wouldn't have played frisbee with an enemy. And if he was honest with himself, the thought of being Scorponok's enemy again...Starscream was going into the fragging trash compactor for this. In pieces, so he could fit into a human one. And he'd make the fragger watch right up until he shoved his cranial unit in there.

"Yes," Ratchet finally responded, "I checked that as soon as he was stable. It's active." He sighed again, this time not even bothering to be annoyed at himself for making a human sound, "I've been keeping him offline, waiting until Prime's ready to talk about it rationally."

He growled and moved past Ratchet, stroking the drone's armor with a gentleness in direct contrast to the suppressed violence in his movements and stance. "Any way ta tell which of the slaggers it is?"

"Not from his end." Ratchet's own frame was also coiled with suppressed violence, in response to Ironhide's body language or of his own volition Ironhide didn't know. "Why?" The tone said that he thought he already knew, but wanted it confirmed.

"Wanted to know which of the slagsuckers I was targeting."

The word "targeting" echoed in his CPU, making his offline cannons hum in anticipation. From the way Ratchet's gaze brightened and the way his circular saw whirred in its place, Ironhide could see that his wording had had a similar effect on the medic's battle programming.

He shook himself and settled his systems with a rattle of armor plates. Now was not the time to indulge in vengeful fantasies -- not if he wanted any of those fantasies made reality. Ratchet took a breem longer to bring himself out of his violent thoughts. He always did, battle programming not settling as smoothly into his processors as it did Ironhide's. This time, though, when he relaxed, his optics still glittered dangerously and there wasn't a hint of his normal disgust at himself for his violent thoughts.

"I'm gonna go talk ta Optimus."

After all it would be so much easier to shove Starscream into a compactor if he had help. Soundwave...Soundwave he figured he'd just rip out his primary support struts and beat the fragger to death with them.

888

Optimus was still in his Peterbilt form, in the desert, exactly where he'd been last time Ironhide'd seen him. The Topkick pulled up next to him and transformed, hoping Prime'd take the hint and transform too. Ironhide always hated talking to a 'bot in his alt form. It was rude, and you could never be sure the mech was listening. Lucky for him, Optimus shifted on his axels and transformed as well, so the two 'bots were sitting on the desert floor, facing the horizon.

"Ratchet says his command link's active." Ironhide pause to judge his superior's reaction to that. Prime only shifted. His battlemask was in place, hiding most of his expression, but the little plates around his optics had a sorrowful cant to them. Ironhide's statement hadn't been a surprise to him. "The slagging 'Co--" Prime moved. Ironhide was suddenly staring into furious optics from a position pinned beneath the larger 'bot.

"Scorponok is not a Decepticon. As long I'm alive, he can't ever be a Decepticon." From anyone else it would have been a growl, with an implied threat at the end. From Optimus it sounded like an indisputable fact.

"'Course Scorponok ain't a Decepticon. I was referring ta Starscream." Ironhide responded before Prime's second statement registered. When it did, and he figured out just what Optimus probably meant by that, his CPU nearly shut down in shock.

Prime backed away with a jerky motion that practically screamed that he was as surprised at what Ironhide'd said as Ironhide was at what he'd said. The two of them sat there on the ground staring at each other. Optimus found his voice first.

"What...when...? I thought you..."

Ironhide scoffed. "I don't play frisbee, or tag, or fragging squares with Decepticons. I was going to suggest we hunt down Starscream and Soundwave so it wasn't an issue anymore." He paused and when he spoke again, he was annoyed to hear an uncertain waver in his voice, "What'd you mean he can't...?"

Prime nearly collapsed back into his alt form, fury and shock gone without a trace, leaving just the sorrow Ironhide had noticed earlier. "I promised I'd protect him. And he called for me -- he hasn't called since before the Decepticons returned, not seriously, and I knew he wouldn't unless...I promised I'd protect him from that, so --" He let out a spark-shattering keening sound and this time did collapse back into alt form.

It was several breems before Ironhide could do anything but stare at his leader. He recognized this now. Guilt. And grief. The sort of grief he'd only seen in his leader once before, when they'd been forced to abandon an alien planet to the Decepticons' mercy without even being able to make the attempt to save them. Though he didn't know exactly what Optimus was mourning this time, he wasn't going to dismiss the reaction.

"I'll," He backed away. There wasn't much he could do about this except leave him to it. And do some damage control with the others. "I'll go tell Ratchet he can let the bug out of stasis lock then." Prime didn't respond. Ironhide transformed and headed back toward the base and the other Autobots.

Frag, this was a mess. Sure they didn't have an enemy assassin in their midst, but from the way Prime was acting, it would have been less a mess if it could be solved by killing Decepticons. Scorponok needed to be woken up. The other Autobots needed to be told about this. Ratchet and Bumblebee would understand -- they'd known Prime the longest, and Ratchet had been there when Prime'd refused the command link the first time, seen his reasons. It needed to be impressed on the quartet of newcomers not to push their luck on this issue -- especially a certain orange mini-bot who'd still rather shoot the bug than look at him.

And sometime after that, Ironhide reflected with a slight shudder of anticipation, Starscream still needed to be shoved into a trash compactor.

fini

notes: i am sorry if optimus seems more than a bit ooc, but in my mind he's a character that very much views things as being either black or white -- Kd Zeal described it as paladin syndrome in one review -- and i think i broke him by forcing the issue.

no pwnage of the 'cons today -- they didn't put up all that much of a fight once the autobots showed up, just ran.

...and Ladyofthebookworms called me evil for monday's update. it made my day.

finally, mirage-muse went an ambushed me like the sneaky spy/sniper he is and i came out with a short look into his head. it's about two months after prime accepts scorponok's command link, when things have settled down a bit from that drama. enjoy.

"Untitled" -- Mirage character study:

Mirage watched. This was nothing new to him. He'd been made to watch, to spy. To move unseen and unsensed through a Decepticon base and come out with information, whether that information was to be gained from breaking into computers or simply sitting unseen in on a command meeting. To be capable of ambushing an enemy, even in the chaos of a pitched battle. As a sniper, he rarely missed. As a spy, he was rarely caught.

But he wasn't spying now. He was simply watching.

All the Autobots on Earth had gathered here in the desert with several humans. Well within the defenses and sensors set up around "their" base, they'd let their guards down. The game they played was energetic and enough observation had revealed the loosely defined rules. Something about avoiding being hit by the light of a designated person's headlights/ landing lights/ flashlight. Scorponok was always allied with Prime -- it couldn't be any other way -- whoever was "it" at the moment, and tagging one counted as tagging both. Despite himself, he was slightly impressed by the fact that someone had come up with such a physical game that could be played with such different sizes and frailties without either too much danger or too many restrictions.

It was foreign to him.

The two warriors in his unit occasionally played, but there had always been an edge to their games, like whatever fun they gained was secondary to practicing some war-skill the game involved. Either that or they were simply fighting, playfully but still serious enough to hurt, with each other.

His war-programmed processor came up with a battle application of the game easily enough -- practicing moving around in a fluid situation without stepping on or driving over humans, both soldiers and civilians, who might be running around a battlefield -- but the edge Mirage was used to seeing was entirely absent.

That was the reason Mirage kept his privacy block against transmissions. Kept rejecting the occasional attempts made by both 'bots and humans to get him to join in. The humans' were mostly excited. They called out that countering the tactics of the 'bots they knew was getting boring, or that that a certain 'bot was too hard to hit with the flashlight beam, and that they needed a new player. Bumblebee's were openly friendly. Cliffjumper's occasionally scornful, citing a distain for Mirage's presumed arrogance. Ironhide's gruff, and Prime's nothing but gently welcoming.

The Aerialbots had yet to offer an invitation into the game. Mirage wasn't sure if that was because they understood Mirage's reasons for not playing with them, or had simply forgotten he was there..

It was simply a game. A bonding experience for Prime's family.

Mirage's family -- his commander, the two warriors, their medic/ scientist -- all were still alive. They weren't lost. He wasn't a wanderer. He didn't need -- didn't want -- to be accepted into Prime's family.

So he watched. He waited. And declined their invitations to join their games.

fini


	35. Conversation 10

summary: mourning the death of ideals.

disclaimer: you know i may have taken at least one character almost entirely out of his original context, twisted him and everyone's perceptions of him until he was nearly unrecognizable, and laughed the entire time, but i still don't own him or any of the others.

warnings: don't think so. maybe for a vicious little drone being himself, but it's a discussion topic only.

Replacement: Roads -- Conversation Ten, Optimus Prime and Scorponok

Optimus Prime was in mourning. Not, this time of a comrade and friend. Not even the lives of humans spent to protect their world from Optimus's enemies. Today, Optimus Prime mourned a piece of himself. The death of an ideal.

_Master?_

The unfamiliar voice that drifted into his CPU, seemingly without source, could only come from one person. Optimus had been in his truck form -- wanting the privacy it allowed him. He transformed. Scorponok never seemed to understand the implied request.

"Please don't call me that, Scorponok."

For the past two years, Scorponok had never really been far away. He'd chosen to stay with Optimus. But now he could never choose to leave.

_I've always called you master._

"I never wanted this."

_I did. And it saved me from Starscream._

And that was why Optimus had done it -- accepted another's absolute slavery. He'd destroyed his morals, killed a part of himself, to allow this drone his last choice.

"I should have protected you."

_You did, Master._

"Not well enough."

Scorponok made a negatory buzz and crept closer to the dejected Optimus, chirring. _If you had failed, I would be Starscream's._

Hesitantly Optimus reached out to stroke the drone -- his drone, he thought in despair -- along his newly repaired armor panels, over where Ratchet had just finished repairing the damage inflicted by the Decepticons. By Starscream. He wasn't sure if the petting was to reassure Scorponok or himself.

They sat there for a long quiet moment. Optimus listened to Scorponok chirr, enjoying the touch as he always did. On the surface, nothing had changed.

Everything had changed. He pulled his hand away. Before he'd been certain that Scorponok was doing nothing against his own will. Now...how much of his actions were dictated to him by his command programing?

_The command link enforces obedience, nothing more._

Optimus regarded the scorpion now perched on his knee. "What?"

_It's not something we've ever told our masters -- the links enforce obedience, not loyalty. I suppose the Decepticons know that, but most don't realize how essential the difference is._

"I don't understand."

Scorponok mad a sort of disbelieving whirr sound. _I once watched a Decepticon commander get his primary energon lines sliced because he'd told his drone to protect him from any Autobot assassins he saw, but forgot to tell him to keep his optics on. My own master at the time never cared about assassins that weren't after him, so I never told him about the incident._

Optimus blinked. That was... graphic. And certainly illustrated Scorponok's point. If the command links affected a drone's thinking as much as he feared, that should not have been possible.

_The command link can't make me care either, Master. I certainly never cared when my previous masters were upset, beyond making sure I didn't get kicked._

"Freedom is the right of all sentient beings, Scorponok. I believe that." Optimus's optics flickered off and he bowed his head in misery. Primus! He was such a hypocrite. "I have to believe that," he whispered. Of every ideal he'd ever had, and ever compromised -- by killing in battle, by execution, by ordering assassination and bombing bases, commanding mechs to take suicidal missions and hold impossible battlefields, even because he hadn't been able protect the bystanders to his war, deciding the Allspark had to be destroyed and thus dooming his race -- that had been his highest, his last line, the one he hadn't crossed. The one he'd thought he'd never cross. Scorponok made worried chirr-click sounds.

_Starscream will bleed for forcing you to make that choice then._

The amount of sheer viciousness in those words managed to shock Optimus out of his grief, for the moment. His optics switched on and he stared incredulously. "What?"

_I might not regret your choice for myself, but... it hurt you, Master, and for that he deserves more than having his hand chewed on._

"You can't go hunting for Starscream." Even shocked as he was, Optimus was very careful not to make the statement a command that would resonate down the link.

_He's just as vulnerable in his recharge as any other mech -- the hard part will be finding the Decepticon base, and the humans are well on their way to accomplishing that. And I doubt I'd be acting alone._

Truthfully, it wasn't the thought of assassinating Starscream -- the highest ranking Decepticon on the planet -- that left Optimus speechless. That particular illusion had died before they'd left Cybertron. It wasn't that Scorponok would kill someone that coldly -- Scorponok's primary function in the past had been as an assassin and there was a long list of dead Autobots attributed to him. It was the thought that someone, anyone, would carry out such a grisly task simply because something they'd done had upset Optimus -- he shivered a bit.

_Master?_

"I don't want that. Please don't do that just for me. I shouldn't be that important."

_As you wish, Master. But you are that important. You are my Master. You are the only Master I would ever mourn._

"I shouldn't be that important. No one should be that important. Not to you. Not to anyone."

_You are that important because I chose you -- no one else could be that important because no one else is worthy of it._

"Why did you choose me. Why do you think I'm worthy. I'm not."

_I chose you because I thought you could protect me and I thought you would be a good master. I was right._

"Why?"

_Why. Why. Why. You sound like a sparkling. _Optimus couldn't help but smile a bit. He'd have to be sure he told Ratchet how similar he and Scorponok occasionally acted. _Because you let me listen to music. You didn't let Ironhide shoot me. When Cliffjumper and I were fighting you were fair. You never tried to kick me because you were angry. _

"I -- none of that makes me special."

_You are special because you believe it. And I'm not the only one who thinks so -- there are others who would kill for upsetting you._

Scorponok relaxed completely against Optimus's leg. He resumed his petting and listened to the scorpion drone's quiet chirring.

Nothing had been settled. Nothing had been solved. Nothing would make the decision right. But it had been the least wrong. Optimus still mourned, but maybe one day he'd be able to accept that.

fini

notes: gah! major guilt tripping here. maybe is should have added "guilt trip" to the warnings. but at least he isn't as broken as he was in the last piece.

in my original outline, this was the end. no more. nada. lucky for you, i've since revised said timeline to include a couple more.


	36. Horizons

summary: to move ahead, something must end

disclaimer: insert endless cycle of non-ownage here.

warnings: battle violence, character death of a minor character,

Replacement: Roads -- Horizons

Telepathy was almost useless on the battlefield.

Soundwave ducked a trio of shots from several human tanks, allowing himself to be driven away from the medic. A spike of pain echoed down the link as Buzsaw was shot out of the air. Lazerbeak circled to try and spot his fellow cassetticon's attacker but when he found the shelterd rock the Autobot had been hiding behind, it had already been abandoned.

To one side, Prime and his warrior were double-teaming Blitzwing. To the other the two mini-bots were similarly overwhelming Barricade. In the air, human pilots kept Sarscream and his subordinates from pressing their advantage of numbers against the Autobot seekers, who viciously tore into their enemies. The traitor, Scorponok was once again battling the cassettes with single-minded intensity, only this time, that damn Autobot sniper was covering the enemy drone, so it couldn't be double or even triple teamed again. Soundwave's opponent, the medic, should have been an easy kill, but the medic was moving with the sort of battlefield grace not often seen in non-warrior-builds, utterly focused on tearing Soundwave apart at the seams. And all around were humans, tanks firing whenever they could get a shot off, and teams of humans on foot running around. Those small weapons could be ignored, but more they were providing targeting information for the tanks and the occasional human pilot who made strafing runs, and that couldn't be ignored.

Not that there was very much he could do about them, occupied as he was with the Autobot and the tanks covering him as the Decepticon communications officer was.

No telepathy wasn't worth anything on the battlefield. There was too much confusion, too many thoughts, emotions, half-formed and abandoned plans, and all too often combatants who simply did not think, just acted. Too many, too much. And few and far between were mechs who could be accurately read through the battle focus.

More than slightly busy with the medic and his human allies, he barely noticed when a quintet of human jets managed to box in Starscream just long enough for an Autobot Seeker to crash into the Decepticon and hang onto him, like some of the more insane Autobot ground fighters had done to take down Decepticon Seekers on Cybertron, tearing off armor plates to get at the circuitry and other delicate components. Both seekers shrieked (vocally and with their turbines) and swore, Starscream's voice raising above the battlefield, as they fell. The Decepticon trine swerved, tried to dive to their commander's rescue, but were deftly cut off from the falling combatants by a dozen humans -- helicopters with high caliber chain guns this time -- and had to break off before the other Autobot swooped in to do some damage. Engines fired, and with one last screech, Starscream managed to transform just as he crashed into the ground, the weight of his attacker slamming down on top of him. The two seekers tore at each other like mad-mechs, rolling on the ground, hissing, shrieking and clawing.

There was no lull in his opponent's unusually focused attacks, but Soundwave felt a _ripple_ -- for lack of a better term -- go through the minds of the Autobots, and more than a few of the humans, a fraction of all their attention shifting without distracting them. Triumph, and more than a little predatory glee -- even the medic. The emotions didn't distract the Autobot attacking the communications officer; instead they threw the medic more completely into his battle programming. Despite the heightened focus of his enemies, he now knew how to get the other Decepticons, and, most importantly, himself and his his cassettes out of this alive.

More humans, ones that had been hanging back behind the tanks, rushed onto the battlefield, crazily swerving through the fighting mechs in their jeeps, towards the two downed seekers. Soundwave didn't need telepathy to know their plan for Starscream -- the distinctive sensor-sheen of liquid nitrogen in canisters was enough. There was another shift in focus when Starscream shrieked in surprise at the first blast of cold.

"Decepticons: retreat." Soundwave broadcast openly -- any transformer would be able to pick up the transmission -- "Starscream: leave behind."

His cassettes were the first to successfully break off, Laserbeak engaging the traitorous drone to cover his siblings' escape. Barricade was next -- thrown small distance from his mini-bot harassers, he transformed and fled. The mini-bots transformed and pursued well past the loose ring of human tanks, but soon came back to circle the downed seekers like Earthen wolves. Blitzwing threw the black warrior into Prime and flew strait up in his MiG form, scattering human aerial formations and leading Dirge, Ramjet, and Thrust nearly out of the planet's atmosphere in an effort to loose the pursuing human jets. The Autobot Seeker didn't even bother pretending to chase, just circled the emptying battlefield at an altitude below the human helicopters. Soundwave simply waited for the medic's attention to shift minutely to where the two mini-bots circled Starscream's position, then bolted, transforming literally mid-stride. He wasn't a racer, but neither was the Autobot who chased him a bit before looping back to focus on Starscream. Humans in jeeps chased him further, but they soon followed their Autobot ally's lead and left him.

He caught one loud, focused thought-image -- a fantasy -- from the black warrior-built as he retreated, of watching Starscream shriek in pain as he was slowly crushed one piece at a time by some compacting device, convincing Soundwave that sacrificing the Decepticon Commander -- technically their leader -- had been the correct choice. Very rarely had he sensed such viciousness in an Autobot -- they weren't programmed with it and their sparks rarely chose otherwise -- and never in such a varied group of them. He and Starscream had misjudged the traitorous drone's position in the Autobot group -- they'd assumed he occupied the position of a prisoner of war, or that of a lowly drone at best. It wasn't a surprise that Starscream had missed it completely, but Soundwave knew that Autobots didn't have a social position for a drone, and lacking that they'd probably adopt him into their "family" -- he just hadn't considered it because it was ludicrous to consider a drone that wasn't a cassette as anything but a disposable servant. And Soundwave had seen warriors take up assassination and spies turn into berserkers when their families were threatened.

This disaster of a battle wouldn't have happened if he'd just disobeyed Starscream then. It was going to take a while for the Decepticons here to have the strength the to do anything except lay low. Still... he was hardly broken up about Starscream's sacrifice -- while Soundwave had followed Starscream's commands, he had been loyal to Megatron not Starscream. Now with the seeker dead, or as good as dead, he could focus on his own agenda, his _reason_ for coming to this organic smear of a planet: vengeance for Frenzy. And there were mechs who would answer Soundwave's call, who wouldn't have even considered coming while Starscream was here.

There was a hum of cool, observant focus pacing him somewhere nearby -- nothing on visuals or sensors, but not bothering with the programming tricks that would hide his mind from Soundwave's telepathy -- the invisible Autobot spy, making sure the retreat was genuine.

The memory of Scorponok's image-taunt rose in his processor, and he nearly whirled to attack the blue and white spy. Logic reasserted itself -- Ravage was alive, somewhere ahead of Barricade in the line of fleeing Decepticons, and the spy was pacing Soundwave, not trying to pass him. And this specific spy had followed Soundwave for light-years without either him or his cassettes noticing -- if he was hunting Ravage, or any other of Soundwave's creations, likely they wouldn't know until the spy was shooting at them.

When he judged they were far enough away from the battle and the vengeance-focused Autobots, he transmitted his instructions to the other Deceptions -- they needed a new base to start, since they'd been routed from that one, and Soundwave wasn't going to make plans for one until they'd lost the following spy.

888

Of course Optimus Prime would never have allowed the vengeance-driven, slow execution Ironhide desired. So it was perhaps fortunate for both Optimus and Ironhide that despite his almost feral frenzy, Air Raid had known what he was doing. Had known exactly how and where to injure another seeker to inflict fatal damage, and the almost intimate way he'd chosen to attack had insured that his ripping and tearing counted in a way you just couldn't be certain of with plasma guns and missile strikes.

Maybe the Decepticon could have been saved, _if_ there had been no Autobot injuries for Ratchet to attend to before he'd even think about saving the 'Con. Air Raid had taken the most damage due to his close combat with Starscream. Fireflight was a close second. Even with the Air Force evening the odds, they'd still been two seekers versus four.

Besides, the American military was very reluctant to take such a dangerous prisoner they weren't sure they could effectively hold -- Megatron's escape from Sector Seven had pointed out the flaws in that approach even before it was an option to apply to others. And since they couldn't hold the seeker, and flat out refused to simply let him go to continue being a danger to their country and entire planet, they wanted him dead, his shell keeping those of the rest of the Mission City Decepticons company.

So, with his Autobots offering nothing except increasingly gruesome methods of destruction, Ratchet making it clear that any order to repair the Decepticon would be ignored until every last scratch on an Autobot (including scars they'd had for vorns) had been taken care of, Starscream dying already without those repairs, and the American Government officials that had be contact almost as soon as the battle had ended clamoring for his death, Optimus allowed it.

(Air Raid found the energy to be silently pleased that he'd managed to rip out the glitch's vocalizer and damage his transmitter -- it meant he couldn't beg for mercy and make this even more complicated than it was.)

He insisted on giving him a merciful death at the very least. Prime would have carried out the execution himself too, had Ironhide not grabbed him to prevent it. Bumblebee was the one to shoot Starscream's spark.

Optimus had been thunderously angry -- if any of them were to dirty himself with an execution, it should have been him. Ironhide and Bumblebee just looked defiant. Ironhide went so far to say to him, "Didn't hurt us any to kill him -- slagging glitch doesn't deserve your pain."

Throughout it all, Scorponok offered no opinion. Later when asked why, he told Optimus, _He hurt you, Master, and for that if nothing else deserved to die. You asked me not to pursue it, and I didn't. _

Optimus had nothing to say to that -- nothing he hadn't said before anyway, though it'd bear repeating, many times, but later.

Days of living, training, talking, and playing resumed, continuing the eternal process of making this planet their home. Life went on. And when Soundwave eventually got his resources and forces together, so did the fighting.

Optimus Prime waited for the Autobots to answer his call:

"We are here. We are waiting."

fini

notes: of all the wide and varied muses in this thing the decepticons were seriously the most consistently uncooperative. the only reason i was able tell the battle from soundwave's pov was because i pinned down soundwave-muse and starscream-muse long enough to tell them that one of them was going to die. in response starscream-muse sulked and soundwave-muse volunteered to narrate, which is why starscream's the one who died.

timing -- about two months after "conversation 10" and a bit before the mirage character study.

at this time i'd like to apologize to all the fans of cliffjumper, air raid, fireflight, and mirage who might feel like they didn't get enough attention. their character voices just aren't as distinct for me as the movie'verse autobots'. rereading everything now, it seems a bit like their inclusion in the storyline was a bit pointless, except as foils and complications for the main characters. that wasn't my original intention -- though they were always going to be more minor characters. back when i started drafting my timeline, with "replacement" on one end and "strength" on the other and the middle mostly blank, once starscream landed there was going to be a lot more decepticon skirmishing. then the relationships started evolving nicely without the stress of more visible decepticon presence, better even, and i couldn't get the decepticons to tell me what the frag they were doing anyway, causing characters i'd originally brought in to help against the deceptions to kinda fall aside. sorry.

epilogue coming soon...


	37. Epilogue

summary: a character finds reasons to look back to the begining

disclaimer: for the last time (until the next story anyway), i don't own any characters or situations from transformers. Neither do i own daniel jackson.

warnings: i don't think there's any. but just to be safe, i'll dump one last "cussing" warning here.

note: grr. i meant to have this up days ago, but a friend goaded me into adopting an art bunny which distracted me. blame him.

Replacement: Roads -- Epilogue

The sight of four meteors falling through the atmosphere in perfect formation was impressive.

Air Raid broke his high altitude patrol pattern to dart through the center of the flaming meteors. Two flinched, sending the entire formation spiraling mildly out of control, so instead of landing in formation, the resultant craters sprawled across the landscape. Chaos completed, Air Raid arced back into the patrol pattern opposite his brother, laughing at the admonitions from Fireflight. Then when the com channels lit up with the swearing, threats, questions and reprimands as soon as the static from entry had cleared out of the new 'bots' radios, he just laughed harder, rolling from the sheer joy of flying and causing a bit of harmless strife.

All four of the new mechs were Autobots, and soon they climbed out of their craters and faced Optimus Prime and the other Autobots fearlessly, optics flickering a bit as they discovered Earth's information network and what the Autobots maintained there. The silvery protoforms were hard for the humans present to tell apart, but Autobots weren't dependent on simple visual clues, exchanging information so that any present would be able to recognize them and know their names no matter their forms.

One, off to the side, stepped toward Prime, "I assume you wish us to choose designations in this language."

He spoke with a sort of vibrating tenor, and, to the surprise of those few humans present who had only ever interacted with an Autobot after he'd been on Earth for a few hours at least, in perfect and precise English.

"Please," was Prime's response.

A moment passed. Two of the mechs behind the one who had spoken, who had come out of their craters to stand next to each other, exchanged looks, and, from the buzz in everyone's com systems, a private conversation. The first ignored them, the fourth waiting patiently, as did the smaller blue and white mech who had come from the crowd of not newly arrived to stand behind his right shoulder.

"Prowl," he decided, then gestured to the smaller blue mech behind him, "You know my First Lieutenant..."

"Mirage," he finished with a small smile, more to his unit than to Prime's and happier than any of the Autobots on Earth had seen him since he'd reported to Prime's unit.

Prowl gestured, both visually and by transmitting a here-as-oposed-to-here coordinate, at the fourth protoform waiting patiently, "our unit's medic..."

"Perceptor," he said simply, shifting as though to move before thinking better of it and continuing to wait.

"Sideswipe," one of the two standing closer together didn't wait for Prowl's lead-in, not that he held any special position. He was just a fighter. His voice sounded more than a bit amused, both to humans and Autobots, and his eyes still flickered as he went through Earth's internet. Prowl gave him a flat, unamused warning look, but Sideswipe still looked far too amused and he didn't stop sifting information.

"Sunstreaker," was next, voiced in a low growl, that had humans shuffling further away from him.

"Welcome to Earth." Prime's words were echoed by most of the humans present, before he continued, "Now that the formalities are dealt with, I'd suggest finding local alternate forms."

He turned, and for the first time the four protoforms saw the small dark shape clamped to Prime's hip. All four tensed. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe produced weapons. Prowl looked like he'd been about to do the same, but had been stopped by Mirage. Perceptor was backing away, getting out of any possible line of fire and gaining the distance to use his light cannon on a target safely.

Sideswipe growled out, "What is that thing doing here?"

More clicks of weapons locking into place, and Prowl looked around to see that most of the the other Autobots had drawn weapons, but instead of aiming at the Decepticon creature drone attached to their leader, they were aimed at his squad -- mostly at Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. He even felt targeting locks from the two Autobot seekers brush over him. Even as his processors strained to figure out the situation, he found the processing power to be thankful to Mirage for stopping him from pulling weapons as well; if he had, the twins wouldn't be hesitating to shoot and that would very quickly get them all slagged.

To Prowl's mind, the most bizarre aspect had been Prime's reaction. The blue and red mech had stopped, and looked at Sideswipe, slightly startled and a bit confused, then at the drone, then he'd settled into a neutral combat stance with an air of resignation, no weapon but ready to move to defend, attack or dodge if the situation spiraled out of control, ready to protect the drone. From Autobots.

"Apologies to you four," he addressed them, "I should have remembered he was there and introduced him." One hand went his hip and obediently the drone switched perches. Prime held the creature up for them to see. Prowl brushed his sensors over it and felt shielding -- that was why he hadn't noticed it before against the backdrop of Prime's systems. "This is Scorponok. He defected not long after Megatron's defeat."

Sunstreaker started to growl out a protest, but Prowl both held out a hand and transmitted a 'stay' gesture to silence him, shaking off Mirage's hold as he did so. He addressing his leader in their native language, not sure if Prime would object to humans hearing this. "You of course know what binds drones (he used the word for sentient Decepticon drones) to their masters. Are you sure his defection is genuine?"

"Yes." Prime answered in English, a little sad, "I know... better than most what binds drones to their masters. So long as I live, Scorponok will never be a Decepticon. Should he outlive me, it will be his choice, again."

The drone, Scorponok, who had been just looking at the newcomers from his new vantage point, turned on Prime's palm and made a surprisingly gentle mechanical sound. Prime responded to it--him by lowering him back to his hip and then bizarrely running his fingers along the drone's armor.

Prime made his way out of the collection of Autobots, weapons still ready, but with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker gaping in shock, the situation was diffusing slowly. Or at least it was until a transmission sporting the signature tag of Autobot Ironhide crackled through their com units. "No attacking the bug. Most of us like the critter and those that don't will still respond like you'd attacked Prime himself. Understood."

Then all of Prime's soldiers put weapons away, as though on some cue Prowl couldn't see or sense transmitted, and the two seekers vectored away, targeting locks falling away like water off enameled armor. Sunstreaker started to say something again, snarling at the black Autobot IFF tagged as Ironhide, but his brother showed one of his rare moments of sense and smacked him before he could do so. Prowl growled his systems at the developing fight -- Perceptor or Prime's medic would be fixing damage on them before a single... day on this planet was over.

"Nice to see they haven't changed," Mirage fell in beside him as he went in the direction Prime had gone in, the others all starting to follow. A familiar, routine flick of his scanners showed Perceptor examining something distractedly, and Prowl sent a double tap over a com line to the scientist to remind him that now was not the time.

"I cannot vouch for when they were sparklings, Mirage, but they haven't changed since before we started looking for the Allspark. What makes you think they would have in the fifty-six orns you were separated from us?"

"Rhetorical, Prowl. Those two won't change until one or both are deactivated."

"Hey!" Sideswipe spared the attention from his fight with his brother to yell at Mirage, "I resent that. You make it sound like it's a bad thing," and got shoved nearly over by Sunstreaker for his trouble.

"Now," Prowl dimmed his optics as he focused on the blue and white spy, "you are going to tell me everything you know about the drone, and why this wasn't in any of your reports."

Mirage transmitted a signal of affirmation. "I don't know as much as I should. Prime's relationship with the drone is a taboo topic and no one will say how it started. Scorponok was already an established and trusted member of their unit when I landed, even if he wasn't universally liked..."

888

Both Perceptor and Prowl chose alt forms fairly easily, though Perceptor's had required some modifications to account for his light cannon. Prowl had even liked the symbolism of his chosen vehicle's paint scheme enough to copy it. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker on the other hand, had decided to be troublesome, as usual. They'd researched vehicles in the global information network until they found one they liked, and, upon finding out there was no way it would be available for transscanning, copied the outer form onto the blueprints of their original Cybertronian alt forms. Mimicking that outer form only -- inside they maintained Cybertonian circuitry. Prowl couldn't reprimand them for doing that -- there weren't any rules against it, and it wasn't the first time. But he did make modifications to his own alt form so that he would be able to chase down the two pains in the aft when they, inevitably, used the fact that Cybertronian racing vehicles outclassed Earthen ones in speed to make trouble.

After, Ratchet checked over Prowl and his team, and Mirage and Bumblebee updated them on the expectations when it came to interacting with humans. Things like which specific humans had been adopted by various Autobots, which humans were important government and/or military figures, social expectations, what areas they were free to be in their primary forms and where alt was required, local laws, etc.

Ratchet was willing to discuss Scorponok with Prowl over a private channel. The medic had been there when the drone had defected and filled him in on what had happened before Mirage had landed. To a point -- he was willing to reassure Prowl on the drone's intentions and actions even before Optimus had bonded to him, but there was something the medic flat out refused to acknowledge, saying it was irrelevant. Prowl didn't have enough information to press him on it.

Sideswipe had taken some minor damage during atmospheric entry (and from the fight with his twin), so while Ratchet and Perceptor fixed him, Prowl went looking for Prime.

At first he didn't know where to start his search -- where ever he was, he was outside Prowl's casual scanning range and putting more power than that into his scans had been considered rude in some areas of Cybertron before the war had managed to eradicate all differences that had once existed between cities; he'd never really interacted with Prime in a nominally peacetime situation so he wasn't sure what was appropriate -- so he asked Bumblebee. The yellow Autobot's eyes flickered a bit, and Prowl felt a buzz along his transmission receivers indicating the other was trying to contact someone, "Sir, he doesn't have a privacy block on transmissions, but he's not answering. Try asking the soldiers. Or Daniel."

That was possibly worrying. Prime should answer inquiry transmissions, or indicate that privacy was desired. But earlier Prime had indicated an intention to stay near the base for now -- any Decepticons coming close enough to be a problem should be detected by either the Autobots or the humans and an alarm sounded. As Bumblebee didn't seem particularly concerned, Prowl had to conclude that there was probably nothing wrong and this was normal for Prime since coming here.

Prowl only nodded in response. Bumblebee twitched his doors uncomfortably as Prowl left and he deduced that a vocal response had been expected, but he didn't know what would have been appropriate, either for this newly adopted language or for this new mostly peaceable situation.

The human Doctor Daniel Jackson was inside a building, so Prowl started asking human soldiers as he'd been told to.

He was fairly quickly directed to a specific sentry post on the outer fences of the base.

Prime was there, with Scorponok. They were engaged in an activity that quite nearly sent him into processor lock as he automatically tried to figure out the purpose -- Prime and the drone both had hold of on end of a thick cord and were pulling on it in opposite directions. Prime only needed to hold the cord firmly to keep it from being taken from him, while the scorpion energetically pulled, swerved, scratched at the ground, rolled and yanked.

Shutting off his optics, Prowl firmly deleted his battle systems' attempt at analyzing the activity and transmitted a com code that translated roughly as "I apologize for interrupting".

"No interruption, Prowl," was Prime's vocal response. He onlined his optics to see they has stopped their mock battle over the cord readily enough. "Come and sit." Prowl nodded and went to Prime. Scorponok squeaked and sent a plume of dust up with his tail, and Prime amended the command, "if you desire, Prowl. It wasn't a command."

After a moment of considering the dirt, dust and intermittent plant life, Prowl chose to stand.

Scorponok chittered at Prime, chirped at Prowl, then burrowed. Automatically Prowl dialed up his sensors to keep track of him as he circled back toward the center of the base. "Where...?"

"To find Air Raid -- beyond that I didn't ask. I suspect they'll have something planned for Sideswipe, and maybe Sunstreaker too, before too long."

A prank then. "You didn't ask, Sir?"

Prime looked very sad while he answered, coiling the cord and coming to his feet to match Prowl, "If I ask, he's forced to answer, and I'd rather not do that."

Prowl accepted that. It was bizarre, by his standards, but occasionally he'd had to accept that Prime had bizarre reasons for the things he did, or didn't, do. He did a quick review of everything he knew about Decepticon drones, then a quicker update -- he knew more than most, but not as much as Prime would, due to his connection to Scorponok. Most of the times he managed to accept their leader's bizarre decisions, but sometimes a bizarre decision had to be questioned. Even after the fact. "With all due respect, Sir, why did you even accept his defection in the first place?"

"We've accepted Decepticon defectors before. One's programming and birth faction does not determine one's spark choices." He led the way toward a... hole in the ground?... some distance away.

Prowl politely agreed with that, then continued with, "but in all other cases, the mech in question was able to state his reasons clearly, gave us information in exchange for the initial asylum, then went through a probationary period during which his weapons were deactivated and a tracker was installed on his person while he was slowly integrated into our faction. They were trusted only after vorns. Most only ever served in battle positions during emergencies." And never were they let near any of Autobot high command, much less Prime, without guards, he didn't say.

"None of that was an option." Prime's voice was sharp, but his movements were calm and fluid as ever as he placed the coiled cord just in the entrance of the burrow in the ground. "There's no precedence for our situation, and no regulations that cover it." Despite the tone and words, there was nothing that really indicated he shouldn't continue.

So he did. "Ratchet said you had him reactivate Scorponok's weapons less than seven local days after you accepted his defection. In that at least you could have been more cautious, Prime."

"Barricade was still here -- a possible danger and with so few of us here, I wasn't going to leave Scorponok unable to shoot back if we got attacked. Besides, his primary physical weapon can't be disabled short of removing a limb -- and I wouldn't have ever allowed that."

The black and white accepted that as mostly true as he followed Prime. His cannons are redundant, had been the silent implication. Not quite true, but not worth arguing with. He had no idea where they were going now, if they were even going anywhere, but that wasn't as important as the conversation. As reassuring himself. "Sir, he could have killed you."

"He didn't." Prime used the exact same tone Prowl had to answer. Still the cue to cease that Prowl kept expecting didn't come.

"You were at risk. He should still be on probation. And," here Prowl hesitated a bit -- what he wanted to ask probably shouldn't be asked of his superior in as direct a manner as he usually used with his subordinates. Once he wouldn't have thought so, not with Optimus Prime, but after so much time commanding different teams with no contact with each other, it would be presumptuous to assume the same amount of familiarity, "and, Sir, I would like to know why you felt the need to escort him around personally rather than assigning Ironhide or Bumblebee to him."

Of all the things about this, that had been the most dangerous. Up until the moment he was bound to an Autobot master, there was no assurance that the drone had not been working on some Decepticon plot. True, the chances of that plot including assassination dwindled the more time and opportunities past, but there was always the possibility of spying. Prowl could think of no better position for a spy to be in than next to Prime, and the best double agents never gave themselves away.

Prime stopped, turned, gazed at the black and white. If Prowl were more given to flights of fancy than he was, he might have imagined that he could literally see the Autobot commander sort through his reasons, searching for the one at the root of all the others. Searching for the one Prowl would accept.

Finally, "Because he didn't come to the Autobots. He came to me. At the time, I didn't know exactly how much a risk that was for him, but he offered to serve me and no other. It was my decision to leave him both free and vulnerable, so the least I could do was see to his protection and comfort personally."

That wasn't logical. Not by Prowl's standards, anyway. But, and this was the reason Prowl knew he himself could never make decisions for the future of their race, his standards of logic didn't always take morality into account. In Prime's place, he would have insisted on following protocol as closely as possible, then... if he understood the timing of things correctly, Starscream had returned and begun his skirmishing well within the time period he would have insisted Scorponok's weapons remain disabled. Would any of those skirmishes have turned out as well as they did without the extra fighter? Especially that first one?

Unknowable.

When the shove came, would Prowl have been able to compromise what morality he had and accept the the command link? To make the less selfish choice?

Most likely not. He would have written the drone off as lost. Perhaps he would have concentrated on disposing of the Decepticon who had forced the link, and brought Scorponok back, if... there were many things to consider about that theoretical situation, but at the root of it, he would have failed to protect someone relying on him.

"Accepted." Considering that Prime had been _right_, it was enough to know that he had had a reason and that he'd thought about it at the time.

Prime started, optics dimming almost completely before brightening again. "What?"

A touch of humor flickered through Prowl's processor. Obviously Prime had expected to have to argue his point quite a bit more. Things had definitely changed since they'd seen each other last. "Your reason is accepted, Prime."

"Optimus." Prowl flicked his door panels in a specific questioning pattern, which made the small smile that had formed on Prime's faceplates at Prowl's answer turn slightly ironic. Still he answered. "You still have my permission to call me Optimus, my friend."

Quietly pleased, Prowl couldn't help but flick his door panels several times, almost a flutter. "Optimus, then." It was good to know that, though time and distance had changed them both, they could regain the friendship (though never a brotherhood, the war had never allowed that between them -- they'd always had to be willing to leave the other behind, either for Prowl to go on extended stays at a different base, or Prime to leave his second to command while he dealt with politics for vorns) they'd once had.

A friendship that, that along with rank, came with certain privileges. After a quiet moment of just getting used to each others' presence again, Prowl asked, "And just how did Scorponok manage to climb into your cab in the first place?"

Optimus had a look like -- hopefully he had the correct human analogy -- a deer in a spotlight on his faceplates. Prowl could figure out why -- in the approximately three local years since the event, he'd never admitted to anyone how that feat had been accomplished. "Ah...Well, that's a rather boring story and I don't think we have time for it now, so why don't --"

"You are stalling."

The Autobot's leader, Prime, Bearer of the Matrix, averted his optics and hissed out something in Cybertonian that was far to fast and run together to be understood. Then his optics flickered hopefully in Prowl's direction, as if asking if that was good enough. Prowl just flicked out a sort of playfully impatient pattern with his door panels. Optimus made a sound with his air circulation system Prowl had never heard a transformer make intending any meaning, though several humans had made a similar sound, so he deduced the sound had been adopted from the native race of this planet. From the context and the accompanying slight slump of Optimus's shoulders, it was meant as resigned gesture.

That conclusion was reenforced when he explained, clearly and more than a bit embarrassed, "I was recharging in the desert. I don't know why I didn't wake up when he opened my door -- the first thing I noticed was when he poked my dashboard climbing in."

After a moment of contemplation, and for the second time that day deleting a futile attempt to analyze something from his battle systems, Prowl snickered. Prime tried to look angry for a moment then made the same noise with his air circulation system and snickered back. "You think that's funny, do you Prowl?"

"Yes, Sir." He didn't bother trying to look repentant.

Prime suddenly looked devious, reminding Prowl quite worryingly of Sideswipe. "It was even funnier when he accidently turned on my radio. Can you believe a _Decepticon_ liking a genre of music that contains nothing but themes of peace, love and goodwill towards all?"

This time Prowl didn't manage to delete the offending data before his systems locked up.

fini

complete, finished, ended, concluded, done, wrapped up, finite, i have nothing else to say about the irrationally cute version of scorponok, who, despite my wandering off topic several times, _is_ the center of the story.

56 orns about two years. that's two years since mirage left his team to follow soundwave, not two years since he landed on earth.

it occurs to me that one of the more inane bits of humor throughout -- Scorponok liking christmas music -- was also one of the more ironic bits of foreshadowing. i figured prowl would appreciate it the most. or not.

i try not to beg reviews -- but this being the last chapter, and being so close, i would be thrilled to end the story with three hundred reviews. so please everyone review.

it's been fun. i hope to see you again with a different story.

-- Dragon of Dispair

new alt forms:

Prowl: modified 2008 Dodge Magnum with police markings

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker: pseudo (if you open their hoods, there's nothing human looking in there) 2011 Lamborghini Gallardos, in metallic red and yellow respectively. yes i'm aware that that year probably doesn't exist yet, but since they land in december of 2010 i didn't think those two would settle for anything but the newest look

Perceptor: brick red, 2008 Saturn VUE Green Line Hybrid (a hybrid SUV), with his microscope/telescope/light cannon mounted on top. weird note on perceptor and transformer culture -- the distinction between a "car" and a "tank" to transformers is wether one has weapons in alt form, and since perceptor does, he considers himself a tank, despite being otherwise a car.


End file.
